Frozen: Rise of Legends
by Mr. Spinner
Summary: Elsa has read the myths of Old Arendelle a dozen times. But when those myths emerge from the mists of time and threaten her kingdom, what can she do to stop them and protect her kingdom? Her family? And who is this cloaked figure who chooses to aide her? Elements from Norse myth. Read and review!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

" _And so the Twilight of the Gods shall come to pass_

 _The slate wiped clean for man to rebuild._

 _But their Wills shall remain and take root in the fertile land,_

 _Their purposes strong as ever."_

―Prophecy of the Norns, never spoken aloud

* * *

Far to the north, among snow-capped mountains and evergreen forests, there sat a small kingdom nestled at the mouth of a majestic fjord. The Kingdom of Arendelle. In the kingdom's capital, also named Arendelle, a castle sat comfortably on an island just off shore, connected to the small city by a stone bridge.

In the grounds surrounding the castle, a young girl played by herself, a few guards standing at attention nearby. The girl giggled as she fed day-old bread to the ducklings that lived in the pond that watered the gardens. Despite her wide smile, Princess Anna couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. Used to be, her big sister would play with her before Mama and Papa closed the gates.

Said sister watched from above in the window of her new bedroom, tears pooling in the young girl's eyes. Princess Elsa wanted more than anything to be down there playing with Anna. The sunlight caught in Anna's strawberry-blonde hair, turning it to fire, and illuminating something newer: a streak of white woven into her pigtails. A reminder, so similar to Elsa's platinum blonde locks, of why she couldn't be down there with her sister. A reminder of the mistake that left both of them alone. Princess Elsa was dangerous; the troll king had said so.

Elsa rubbed the back of her gloved hand, the leather still uncomfortable. Papa had given them to her, told her that the gloves would help to keep her power inside. _Conceal it, don't feel it - don't let it show_ , he had said. Mama had promised that when she learned control, she could play with Anna again.

Elsa sat back on the window-seat, the tears beginning to fall. How long would that be?

* * *

Many miles north, deep in the untamed wilderness, a young boy stood before a cave mouth. Wrapped in a dark-blue cloak and a trimmed staff in his hand, he swallowed thickly. _This is no task for a nine-year-old_ , he thought grimly. The boy turned to look over his shoulder at the two old men some distance away, the ones who had told him about this place. A pair of black birds sat on a branch above them.

The boy steeled his resolve and pushed forward, ignoring the spikes that resembled the fangs of some long-forgotten monster. The cave started out straight, then began to spiral downward, like a winding staircase. Just as the men had said it would. Just as the birds had told them to tell him.

After some time, he came to the end of the decent and found himself in a sizable cavern. At the far end of the chamber, large roots broke through the wall, dripping into a large pool of crystal-clear water. Looming over the pool stood a formation of rock that somehow resembled a man, a monstrous man crouching protectively over the pool, a staff clutched in his hand and piercing eyes regarding the boy.

The boy braced himself and approached the pool. He knelt down at its edge and reached out. A few inches from the water's surface, his fingers brushed … something, and it sent a shock up his arm. The boy grit his teeth, refusing to cry out. He had been told that that would happen, but he'd wanted to see for himself.

The boy looked up at the formation, at the guardian of the well, into those piercing, judging eyes that had seemed to follow him. The boy sighed and removed a small knife from his belt. He looked down at his right hand, sapphire eyes blazing, and swung down.

The cold metal bit into his palm, cutting clean through to emerge from the top of his hand. The boy tried as hard as he could, but he still couldn't stop the groan of pain that escaped his clenched teeth. A single tear escaped his eye and fell, shining like starlight. For the briefest moment, an image of a family shined within before it disappeared into the pool. He hissed in pain as the wound began smoking, the blood stopped flowing. He yelped as he felt his very soul being branded, the toll he had paid far more than blood and tears. The pain subsided and a wooden cup floated to the surface of the water.

The boy took the cup, no shock came this time, and dipped it into the water. He drank the water―it felt like ice clawing down his throat―and tossed the cup back in. He waited for something to happen. After those few minutes, he felt nothing different. The boy cursed and stood, wheeling around for the exit. As he walked, his stub twitching, the boy heard rock creaking and groaning like menacing laughter, as if the statue were mocking him. He shook it off and ascended the spiraling cave.

As he neared the mouth of the cave, he saw the men standing outside it, their smiles a mix of pride and sadness. The birds who had "suggested" this plan were nowhere to be found. The boy sped his gait, ready to give these two a piece of his mind. As he passed the lips of the cave, as he left the Sanctuary, it finally hit him.

The boy collapsed as his forehead exploded into agony. He convulsed as he felt it - wisdom of the ages - flood into his mind like a maelstrom. His unseeing eyes saw impossible things, his deafened ears heard whispers of ancient secrets, his entire body wracked with the enduring of ages.

As he spasmed and twitched, gasping for air and sweating with fever, the men took the boy and carried him to a camp deep in the trees, well away from the cave. They set to getting him as comfortable as they could and began cooking a side of beef in a skillet, potatoes and carrots stewing in the grease. The boy would need his strength if he woke up. _When_ he woke up.

After what seemed like an eternity, the boy stilled and passed into a fitful slumber. If the boy had been awake, he would have felt the tears of blood leaking from his right eye. If he had looked into a mirror, he would have seen that the eye had changed - changed from deep sapphire to a harsh gold. _Only through suffering may wisdom be achieved_ , a voice whispered into the boy's ear, seared into his memory.

Two birds landed near him and looked down upon him. _Rest well, Alphonse. Rest will not come easy, now._

* * *

As the years passed, Princess Elsa would only grow more fearful of her powers, more isolated from her sister. That is, until the day of her coronation. Her powers would be revealed. She would run to the mountains - hurt her sister once again - be brought home. She would be saved by Anna and return what had been lost. After years of suffering, Elsa would be free.

For Alphonse … His chains had only grown tighter. His suffering had only begun.

 **New story. What do you all think? Leave a review if you like what you see.**


	2. The Stage Is Set

**Chapter One: The Stage Is Set**

Elsa, the Snow Queen of Arendelle, strode peacefully through the corridors of her home; most of her day was spent enduring an endless storm of petitions, proposals, complaints, notices, and laws from a score of different officials. In the rare times she could be alone during the day, she liked to enjoy it.

Elsa walked past the doorway of the ballroom and paused, a faint sound at the edge of her consciousness. After a moment, she realized it was laughter. Anna's laughter. Elsa peeked into the ballroom and smiled at what she saw. Anna and Kristoff were dancing, clumsily, around the ballroom, giggling to each other.

It had been two years since Elsa's coronation and, as Anna had once called it, the Eternal Winter that had followed. Anna and Kristoff had been married for six months now, and never since her own parents had Elsa seen two people more in love. Not that she had much to compare to, honestly, having been shut in the castle most of her life.

Elsa smiled again and left the couple to their fun. She made it to a small audience chamber before she felt something clench at her heart, a sensation that had become more and more familiar of late. Elsa sat on her throne and closed her eyes, brushing aside the background thoughts of taxes and levies and trade. She examined herself, a skill she had mastered during the thirteen years of isolation, and tried to put a name to this feeling. It only took a moment to figure it out. She was _lonely_. The realization struck her like a thunderclap.

Elsa sighed as she tried to come to terms with this revelation. Her musings, however, were broken by a familiar, ever-cheerful voice.

"Hi, Elsa!" Olaf shouted across the room, followed by his personal flurry. "Anna and Kristoff are busy, so I thought I'd come find you!"

Elsa smiled at the little snowman, her mood lifted for the most part. "Hello, Olaf," she said simply. Olaf seemed to sense something off.

"Are you okay?" he asked with child-like sincerity. Elsa chuckled.

"I'm alright now, Olaf." She stood and led the way out of the chamber. "Would you like to walk with me through the garden?" she asked. Olaf's answer was a joyous laugh as he waddled after the queen.

While Elsa did feel better, a small part of her, deep in the back of her mind, couldn't help but brood inside over what she had realized. She didn't begrudge Anna or Kristoff their happiness, far from it - she was more than happy for it - but she was still human; she longed for personal companionship, even if she didn't show it. Frost began to gather on the queen's palms.

Elsa shook her hands to rid them of the ice and her head to dispel her negative thoughts. She may not find someone she could be with, but she had her sister. She had a brother-in-law and Olaf. And perhaps, in the future, some nieces or nephews. Those thoughts brought a smile to her lips as she walked the gardens with her little snowman.

But still, no matter what she did, a question remained buried in the recesses of her mind. _Could a man really come to love me?_

* * *

Far from the city of Arendelle, at the edge of the nation's lands, a young man sat in a small camp by the sea. A blue cloak hung over his shoulders, the hood shading his eyes. His mouth rested on his clasped hands, he stared into the flames of the campfire, thinking about everything and about nothing.

He considered the sea serpent he had spent the day baiting and then killing, ointment shining on his arms from where its steaming blood had touched him. He considered how much he had learned in the fifteen years since he had taken that drink from the Well. He wondered briefly about the whereabouts of the men who had helped him after and then left without warning. And he tried more than anything to avoid thinking about what had happened sixteen years ago.

As he was thinking, a pair wolves, probably mates, wandered into his camp. They sniffed at the remains of his dinner and looked at him as if for permission. The young man, Alphonse, flicked his fingers up, a sign of assent. The wolves quickly devoured the roasted rabbit from its spit and loped back into the woods.

Solitude settled onto Alphonse's shoulders like an unwanted cloak. As much as he hated to say it, he wouldn't even have minded if his so-called "mentors" had shown up to lecture him. He looked down at the ugly scar that marred the back of his hand, a mirror to the one on his palm. Fifteen years - fifteen years since he had paid his toll and all that it implied. But he would bear that burden for as long as he could, for it was the price of the path he had chosen.

With that thought, it was time to get some Insight into that path. Alphonse shook himself and rummaged through his leather satchel, removing a small stone bottle carved with strange glyphs. He flicked open the lid and tilted it, allowing a single drop to fall on his tongue. Alphonse coughed as the bitter, burning taste coated his tongue and seared down his throat. Fifteen years and he still hated that part. _Only through suffering may wisdom be achieved_ , the voice had said all those years ago. It didn't mean he had to like it.

Alphonse wrapped himself in his cloak and settled his back against the stone he had been sitting on, his hood drawn up. The fire, burning strong, flickered and died like a candle flame. Darkness settled upon the camp and Alphonse closed his eyes.

He hated the potion, but he hated the next part even more.

* * *

 _Alphonse stood on the side of a great mountain, snowflakes dancing in the wind and his cloak billowing around him. Everything was distorted and indistinct, as if he was looking through a flowing river. That was the way it always was in these dreams._

 _Alphonse began to walk forward until he heard something he would never have expected - he heard someone singing. The young man searched the horizon, finally settling on a young woman. If he had been awake, and this had been reality, Alphonse would have turned crimson. This woman was beautiful!_

 _She strode confidently, gliding over the snow that his boots sank through, singing with a voice that would shame angels and a smile more lovely than the snow around them. She ran forward and through him, passing through him like a ghost. She pushed her arms forward and the beginnings of a staircase formed on a cliff. A staircase made of ice!_

 _The woman, the crown and fine clothing implied royalty, stepped onto the stairs and ran forward, the staircase growing before her into a piece of art. Alphonse ran up the stairs to the woman's side._

 _She slammed her foot into the snow, a dazzling snowflake design springing into existence, singing all the while. In no time at all, the foundation had grown into a full-fledged castle. The woman continued singing, her words distorted by the dreamscape, and freed her bun from its bindings, allowing it to fall into a platinum-blonde braid. Her clothing changed, spun from frost and ice, into an elegant, sparkling dress. She strode forward, as confident as could be, and belted her soul out over the balcony she had created. She turned and slammed the doors with a smirk on her face. He caught a glimpse of gorgeous blue eyes before the dream changed._

* * *

 _Alphonse stood in the hall of a different castle. It looked like one of the Northern countries, stone walls hung with tapestries. Moonlight shone through the windows. The dreamscape was tinted red, a sign of things to come. A possibility for the future._

 _A door creaked open and out came a young woman. She resembled the other one - a sibling perhaps? - with strawberry hair. The girl rubbed the sleep from her eyes and ambled forward. Alphonse moved forward to get another look at her when a breathy groaning filled the air. Had he been awake, Alphonse's blood would have frozen. He knew that sound and it was anything but good._

 _A shambling figure appeared at the end of the hall. Everything sped up - the creature tearing the girl apart as she screamed, the platinum blonde and a large man finding her, the older woman shrieking in grief._

 _Images flashed across his mind's eye: a crocus flower - a full moon spattered with blood - a raging blizzard consuming a large town by the sea. Pain - sorrow - death! And a presence that felt familiar and unwelcome, dripping with malicious glee._

* * *

Alphonse lurched upward, sweat coating his shivering body and energy burning inside. He grabbed his satchel and an ashwood staff, then bolted into the forest. He ran over a large rock and leapt off - he didn't come back down.

Out of the trees on the night before the moon was full, flew a raven. Flew a raven into the night toward Arendelle.

The vision had seeped from a time to come, but the future was not set in stone. What he had seen, the horrors that had happened and would follow, could be changed by someone who knew. Someone like him. And Alphonse refused to let those atrocities come to pass. Especially if the person he thought was involved, was involved.

* * *

In the north, in the mountains surrounding Arendelle and its fjord, a stone wobbled in its cave. The stone unfolded to reveal a small creature with grey skin and a mane of grass-like hair, clad in clothes stitched from moss and strings of yellow crystals. The small, ancient creature looked to the sky, to the sparkling stars that did little to calm his nerves.

Something was coming. No, more than one thing. And he couldn't, for the long life of him, determine the good or the bad.

 **Leave a review. I promise the chaps will get longer.**


	3. The Raven Comes and More

**Chapter Two: the Raven Comes and More**

Elsa swept her gaze around the courtyard of the palace, at all the faces of her citizens shining with anticipation. "Are you ready?" she asked them. The crowd cheered and clapped, far beyond ready to see their beloved queen's powers. Elsa clapped her foot to the cobblestones, covering them with a smooth sheet of ice. She lifted her hands toward the fountains in the courtyard and froze the water into intricate, swirling sculptures. And she launched a bolt of magic into the air that exploded into a soft snowfall that glistened in the sunlight.

Elsa smiled warmly at the sight of her people, young and old, enjoying themselves so much. For thirteen years she had lived in fear of her powers, in fear of what people would do if they found out about her. That fear had left her two years ago, and now she could use those very powers to bring her people joy.

A shout of panic caught her ears and Elsa stifled a giggle as Anna landed on her backside, still so clumsy on the ice. Though, in fairness, she had gotten a bit better. Elsa slid along, perfectly balanced and at peace on the ice, and helped her sister up. Anna wobbled for a moment, but reclaimed her balance and hugged Elsa, who melted into the contact. Anna sped away, led by Olaf, and began to practice more advanced moves that almost always landed her back on the ground.

Elsa rolled her eyes and moved on, making small talk with her subjects and overall enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. After a few hours, as the ice began to melt, the people began to head for home, pausing to thank their queen and wish her good health. As the last of the crowd began to leave, Elsa felt a shiver run up her spine, as if she were being watched.

Elsa looked around and saw a large bird sitting on one of the fountains, a raven. The raven tilted its head, as if regarding her, then croaked a shrill call and flew away over the castle. Elsa raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. Something about all that left a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Never liked those birds," Kristoff said as he approached her, also looking the way the bird had flown. "They seem … unnatural, like they know all the bad that's gonna happen to you and do nothing to change it." Elsa had to agree with her brother-in-law, at least about that particular bird. She shook off those superstitious thoughts and offered the ice harvester a smile.

"Come along, Kristoff. Anna's probably ready for us by now," she said. Anna was always quite adamant about the family sharing at least one dinner a week with each other, and both Elsa and Kristoff weren't swamped in work. Kristoff silently followed his sister-in-law.

As they headed back to the castle, neither the queen nor the Ice Master deigned to look up. Neither saw the hooded figure sitting on the roof, wrapped in a blue cloak with his face hidden in the shadow of its cowl. As the royals entered the castle, the figure stood and hopped over the arch of the palace roof. He had had a long night ahead.

* * *

Deep in the wilderness, miles from the city of Arendelle, sat large mounds of earth and stones, almost like unnaturally round hills. These were the ancient burial mounds, built to house warriors of old that had fought to defend their homeland. For centuries, these gravesites had been undisturbed by the locals in respect to those who had fallen in battle. Those who had paid the ultimate price for their countrymen.

The sun sank below the horizon, just as it did every day. But unlike most nights, the northern lights did not appear. In fact, the air itself seemed unnaturally tense, as if the earth itself were holding its breath in trepidation. In trepidation for what was about to happen.

One of the mounds shifted ever-so-slightly, the grass-covered soil wriggling as if covering a restless sleeper. Which, in a way, it was. The soil broke apart, releasing columns of mist that rose in putrid green streaks. The vapors swirled and parted, revealing a figment of long-forgotten nightmares.

A pale, blue-grey figure with rotting skin peppered with gaping wounds, rose from the mound and shambled to the forest floor. Pink fluid oozed from its long-dead wounds like blood and its eyes were milky white. A grating moan escaped through the creature's few teeth in a mockery of the breath it had had in life.

The creature was undead. Blood drinker - flesh eater - monstrosity. A draugr.

The draugr limped forward, drawn toward a member of the living. It knew what - who - it was searching for, and it would stop at nothing to find it, to tear and consume it. The draugr was unaware, or perhaps uncaring, of the multitude of its fellows that rose from the mound and shambled behind it. For all bore the same drive. The same purpose.

* * *

Princess Anna breathed deeply as she awoke in her husband's arms. She felt something was off for a moment before she realized what it was: she had to use the bathroom. Anna briefly considered trying to hold it, then discarded the notion. It would be hours before dawn.

Anna carefully rose from the bed, trying her hardest not to disturb Kristoff, and moved as quietly as she could into the hall. For anyone else it would have been difficult to navigate the alls at night, but Anna had explored every nook and cranny in this castle since childhood. She knew her home like the back of her hand. Wait, what? Where did that expression even come from? Who took the time to memorize the back of their hand? On impulse, anna looked down at her own hand before remembering it was too dark to see detail. Oh well.

Anna soon found the privy and relieved herself, vowing to never again have two cups of hot chocolate before bed. One cup was enough. Maybe. She smiled as she thought of being back in bed, feeling her husband's warm arms wrapped around her. As she reached for the knob to their room, Anna paused, some instinct telling her danger was near. Something was very wrong.

Anna's eyes widened as a faint light seemed to permeate the nighttime darkness, making everything clear without hurting her eyes. She didn't stop to think that she was seeing in the dark, it was as if the dark were just … not dark. And in that not-darkness, she saw something that really should have frightened her but didn't. She saw a large black wolf sitting in front of her, its head level with her shoulder. Given her past experiences with wolves, she should have been scared to death, but she wasn't. It was just sitting there on its haunches, like a faithful dog.

Anna stiffened as that instinct came back, ice crawling up her spine. And with that she heard a faint, ominous noise. A kind of shambling, overlaid by an ill groaning noise. She slowly turned to find a man-shaped figure at the end of the hall limping toward her. It was making the groaning noise, the sound becoming harsher as it sped up, moving toward her. Anna backed away, fear blossoming in her chest.

As the creature drew nearer, the not-darkness allowed her to see what it was. It was a pale, rotting corpse, its body peppered with festered wounds and blazing red eyes burning in its head. Its jaw hung loose in a fearsome snarl as it emanated that groan. The scent of rotting flesh hit the princess like a wave, making her gag. The thing lifted its hand to reach for her, as if beckoning her to come closer. Anna's scream died in her throat, strangled by primal horror.

As the creature drew closer, almost within arm's reach, a vicious snarl pierced the night and the wolf leapt for the monster, ripping and tearing it to shreds. After a few moments, the wolf stopped and looked at her in the not-darkness, its muzzle unblemished and its eyes glowing in the night. Did they do that before? One was a deep sapphire, the other a startling gold.

The wolf stood stock-still, just looking at her. It turned its head to the side as if pondering the situation. They stood there, princess looking at wolf and vice versa until shouting was heard, the guards coming and getting closer. The wolf looked in the direction of the noise and back to her, then loped past her. Anna turned to see the wolf crash through a window and vanish into the night.

Anna felt like all the feelings inside her had stilled, as if the weirdness she had seen had topped some kind of limit. She sat back against the wall as the guards rushed to her, shouting about the corpse and asking if she was okay.

Anna didn't answer, still trying to process what had just happened.

* * *

An hour later, Anna sat in the castle library wrapped in a blanket, thinking furiously over what she had seen. It clearly wasn't a dream given she was in the library right now, unless this was a dream and she was pretty sure it wasn't. Kristoff sat with her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He didn't know what had happened and it didn't concern him as much as the fact that Anna, his bubbly, talkative Anna, hadn't spoken two words since whatever had happened.

Elsa had spent the entire time since the guards found Anna discussing what they had found. They had reported that the princess had been found sitting in the hall with a ruined body, apparently long-since dead. The castle physician had been woken to investigate, and he had confirmed that the body was quite old, in a state of natural preservation. The wounds inflicted on it, however, were new.

The guards had investigated the broken window, but had determined that it had been broken from the inside. Either someone inside the castle had broken it to allow someone else in, or it had been used as an escape by someone. Or perhaps _something_.

Elsa thought about all of this as she looked at her sister, who seemed less frightened than thoughtful. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Coming to a decision, she pulled up a chair in front of her sister and waited. Anna, perhaps sensing the action, broke away from her thoughts and looked her sister in the eye.

"Anna, what happened?" she asked. Anna looked away and twisted her mouth in thought. If she told the truth, would they believe her? One look back at elsa promised that she would do what she could. Anna took a deep breath and tried to order her thoughts.

"I woke and needed to go to the bathroom," she began, the ridiculousness of the situation making her chuckle. "I was coming back to our room when something happened. The darkness seemed … thinner. It was just as dark, but I could see around me. And sitting next to me was a big black wolf." She locked eyes with elsa, searching for a hint of disbelief. Elsa seemed surprised, but not unduly so. It was an odd statement, even Anna had to admit.

"The wolf was just sitting there, looking at me. He wasn't growling or threatening, or anything. It was just like a big wild dog. Then I heard something from the end of the hallway. I turned and saw," she swallowed as she replayed the memories in her mind, 'a walking, groaning dead guy. It was awful, all pale and rotten and just … walking and groaning. It came toward me, lurching like it couldn't walk right. It freaked me out; I couldn't move, I couldn't-" She cut off and sighed, calming down.

"Then the wolf snarled and jumped at it and ripped it up. The wolf was at it for a while before it stopped and looked at me, like it just … wanted to make sure I was alright. Then I heard the guards coming. The wolf must have heard them too because it just ran off and jumped through the window." She looked up at her sister's, eyes beseeching. "Elsa, I swear it really happened. I'm not crazy!"

Elsa lifted her hands, trying to placate her sister. "Anna, it's okay. I believe you," she said soothingly. Anna's eyebrows rose in surprise, then narrowed in slight suspicion.

"You're not just saying that to calm me down, right?" she asked. Elsa chuckled at that.

"No, I really do believe you," she assured. "I mean," she conjured a small flurry over her open palm, "we have a fairly strange life. What's a walking dead man and a heroic wolf compared to this?" Anna smiled at Elsa's calmness. Of course she wouldn't toss her in the nuthouse. Not that Arendelle had a nuthouse, but she had heard a lot of stories from merchants when she visited the market and the thought just crossed her mind, and- She stopped her thoughts before they got any more off-topic.

Elsa regarded her sister and brother-in-law. 'Both of you go and get some rest. I'll have two guards outside your room for the rest of the night to make sure nothing else happens." Anna shrugged and stood, taking Kristoff's hand and guiding him along. Just as Elsa had said, two guards came with them.

When the couple had gone, Elsa's look of calm assurance changed to worry. She really didn't think Anna was crazy, but she wasn't as accepting of the circumstances as she had seemed. A walking corpse? Her father had collected the old stories of the Northmen as a hobby in his youth, and they spoke of something eerily similar. The draugr. Could that have been what Anna encountered? And the guards had mentioned seeing footprints of dust that resembled a large wolf. What was that wolf that saved anna? Why would it do that?

Elsa snapped her fingers, a recent habit to help clear her mind when it began running with questions that she could not answer. And tonight, she couldn't answer any of these questions. She decided to return to bed and try to figure it out in the morning.

Like Anna and Kristoff, Elsa posted a pair of guards outside her room for the night. Caution never hurt anyone, after all. As the Snow Queen settled back into her bed, she tried to relax and eventually found sleep.

Unbeknownst to the queen, a raven was perched outside her window. The bird turned it head to the side, just as the wolf had, and flew off into the night.

 **TeamArendelle: Thank you for your poignant observation. I had fully intended to put this in first, but there was a mess up with the chapters, totally my fault. Thank you for your comment!**


	4. Visit to the Valley

**Chapter Three: A Visit to the Valley**

Alphonse kept his breathing measured, timed to the beats of his staff against the stony ground, as he trekked by foot up the last of the mountain trail, his destination close enough to almost taste. He tried to remain calm as he felt the silken caresses of the wards surrounding the site, barriers that were meant to keep out those who might mean harm to its inhabitants. He came in peace, so they let him through, but his … unique skills made them flare up - a warning against foolishness.

Keeping his mind off of the wards, Alphonse thought back to last night. He knew what had been in the castle, what had most certainly tried to kill the princess. He knew of them all too well. What he didn't realize was why it had attacked her personally, why it and it's kind were rising now, of all times. If he wanted those answers, he had to find local wisdom.

Alphonse visibly relaxed as he passed through the last of the wardings and into the mists surrounding the valley. The Valley of Living Rock. He had never been here before, had never had a reason to come to the home of the rock trolls. He had destroyed rouge trolls before, but the rock trolls of Arendelle were supposedly peaceful, almost pacifistic in nature. Given that, perhaps they would choose to help him despite his _reputation_.

As he passed through the natural steam vents that surrounded the valley, Alphonse couldn't help but wonder why they lived so far from their human neighbors. Rumors had been spreading for years among the Ashlander community that the races had begun to integrate closer to man, for survival if nothing else. Perhaps they couldn't? Perhaps they _had_ to remain apart, for the sake of their health.

Either way, it was less than ideal to have to travel so far just to find the, even if he had flown most of the way. The wards had only forced him to walk the last mile or so. Alphonse winced as he felt a familiar memory brush against his consciousness, relaying the lesson that had been seared into his memory: _Only through suffering may wisdom be achieved_. Alphonse shook his head and kept on.

Finally, he emerged from the surrounding mists into the Valley itself. Grass and moss grew across stone tiers that ringed the Valley, growing higher until they swept up into high cliff faces, providing protection and shade for most of the day. It kept the Valley cool while the steam vents kept it warm, a delicate balance so similar to the Beginning. More importantly, it kept the direct sunlight out for as long as possible, allowing the trolls to remain mobile for far longer than outside.

In addition to the tiers, the Valley was littered with moss-covered round boulders, arranged with seeming abandon that somehow brought to mind an abstract pattern. Alphonse grinned the shadow of his hood. Their hidden forms would divert any average human who wandered in by chance, but he had come here with purpose. And he was about as far from average as a human could get.

Alphonse gently lowered his hood, placing his staff and leather bag on the ground. There were formalities to consider when approaching more of the Ashlanders, those who Remembered the Time Before. Alphonse took a deep breath before beginning. "Noble Trolls, Children of the Earth and Born of Mountain, Tenders of Crystals. Hear me, I seek an audience with your chief in the name of the lost All-Father!"He lowered his arms and waited for the message to sink in, resisting the urge to pick up his staff should they be less-than-friendly. If the last sixteen years had taught him anything it was - well, pain. But patience was up there, too.

Finally, a single boulder rolled toward him from the depths of the Valley, settling at a distance that was both non-threatening and somewhat welcoming. The stone shifted and unfurled to reveal a diminutive humanoid figure with grey skin, his back and chest covered in a mane of grass-like hair and slate-grey eyes peeking out from bushy green eyebrows. The troll was clothed in attire woven from plant fibres, a cape of moss hanging from his shoulders and trailing behind him. Yellow crystals glowed from under his cape, hanging from necklaces.

"You are welcomed into the Valley, young Residuum," the troll chief answered. Alphonse nodded his thanks and lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged on the Valley floor, just above eye-level with the old troll. Without his realizing, a name drifted from the depths of his mind.

"Grand Pabbie," he greeted, "I have received a strong premonition, gifted of Insight. The draugr are stirring in the surrounding mountains after more than six centuries." The troll elder sighed and closed his eyes in dread.

"This is fearful tidings, indeed, Residuum. For some time I have felt a Moving Within the Earth. But I had feared to believe that the Moving could bear such fearsome creatures."

The troll chief's eyes flicked open as he registered the importance of one word. _Insight_. Pabbie's gaze flicked to Alphonse's, focusing on his eyes. He still had two, thank goodness, but their colors differed in a way that Pabbie could sense was not natural, nor from birth. His gaze darted to Alphonse's right hand, his practiced eyes perceiving the aura around it, a Mark of Sacrifice. He looked back to Alphonse's eyes, noting for the first time what they lacked. _So that is what he gave up_ , the shaman thought sadly. The chief refocused on Alphonse himself, his examination taking less than a moment.

"You wish to know why the walking dead are stirring now, of all times?" he said, a statement rather than a question. The young man nodded an affirmative.

Pabbie turned and led the way to the middle of the Valley, the stones around them unfolding into his tribe, who watched with curiosity and a touch of wariness. Stopping in the valley's center, Pabbie turned to face Alphonse, and began waving his hands in gentle motions, the northern lights changing in time with his movements. The shaman was weaving the northern lights as an illustration to his story. Alphonse had to admit he was impressed.

"Two years ago," the old troll began, "a great event occurred around Arendelle during the coronation of its queen." Pabbie chuckled lightly. "The northmen, in their natural penchant for exaggeration, refer to it as the 'Eternal Winter', though in truth it lasted all of three days." The shaman's face became serious again. "The unnatural winter was caused by the queen of Arendelle, Elsa. She who was born with the ice magic of Old."

The figure of a woman appeared in the tapestry of the lights, trembling with fear. Alphonse thought back to his dream, of the woman singing on the mountain. He thought about watching her after the draugr attacked. Afraid? She had seemed anything but.

"The queen had little control over her powers, and the winter manifested from that lack. Held back for thirteen years, when it found a crack in her armor, the river spilled out like a tidal happened after that event.

"Elsa fled to the North Mountain and began learning about herself, attempting to come to terms with herself. Her sister Anna followed her, trying to bring her back. When Anna revealed to the queen the fate of her kingdom, Elsa reacted in fear and …" the troll paused to gather his composure, "and she unwittingly froze Anna's heart." Alphonse's eyes widened in surprise. That kind of curse was fatal, unless …

"Do not fret, Residuum, for the story has a happy ending," the shaman continued. "Anna was brought back to Arendelle by my grandson, Kristoff, while Elsa was returned after an attack by the visiting dignitaries. The winter grew worse in elsa's fear, but Anna was able to find her. The princess cast herself in front of a sword blow meant for the queen, her heart freezing solid in the process." Alphonse frowned. This was his definition of "happy"?

"And that act of true love, and Elsa's grief, thawed her heart and saved the princess. Elsa learned the key to controlling the power within her: love. Love that thaws." The lights faded away and Alphonse's mouth quirked at the happy ending, but that brief sentence scratched at his contentment. _Only through suffering may wisdom be achieved_. Alphonse shook it off and addressed the troll chief.

"Grand Pabbie, is the Eternal Winter the cause of the draugr Rising?" alphonse asked. Somehow that didn't seem right. The power of winter was not something used in to control things, especially dead things. Hel, it's what made things sleep. Pabbie thought before answering.

"I do not believe Elsa's struggle is the direct cause. The saturation of raw power during the event may have made it easier, but I doubt it is the true force behind it. I sense the work of another party here, a conscious one." The troll's face was grim.

Alphonse thought before revealing what he knew. "Last night, a draugr broke into the castle and attacked the princess." that was so strange for a draugr as to almost be ludicrous. Draugr were next to mindless beings, only concerned with their next meal. They didn't get _picky_. It just wasn't in their nature. That had to mean someone, or some _thing_ , was controlling them. It was forcing a purpose upon them. "Pabbie," the young man asked, a hypothesis taking shape in his mind, "is there anyone who would mean the Arendelle royals … specific harm?"

Pabbie's eyes narrowed, knowing full-well what the young man was getting at. "During the Eternal Winter, princess Anna was engaged to a prince of the southern Isles, one Hans Westergard. It was a quick thing, and anna was both trusting and naive, drawn in by his charms. When Anna left to find elsa, she left Arendelle in his care. When she returned with her heart frozen, he revealed that he was going to kill elsa and seize the throne." The troll shaman seemed far more angry than Alphonse would have ever expected. "After the Great Thaw, Elsa sent Hans back to the Southern Isles in chains. And Anna has since married mt foster grandson, Kristoff." Pride warmed the troll's tone at that, then his expression turned grim.

"Hans is the most likely culprit to target the sisters deliberately. Not the only possibility, but it would not surprise me." Alphonse made sure to remember that and looked up to see the light fading. He needed to get back to the city, quickly.

"Thank you, Old One, for your wisdom," Alphonse said, grimacing at the formality. He didn't like calling someone old, especially someone that had helped him. "I have to leave immediately. I feel the castle will be attacked soon, and in greater numbers." Alphonse stood and replaced his hood. He looked down to Grand Pabbie in expectation.

The old troll grinned and raised his arms, fingers dancing. In the sky surrounding the Valley appeared a thick net of magic, similar to the northern lights. The wards that had forced him to walk up the mountain. Within the net grew a small hole, an opening. "Go now, Residuum. Go and fulfill your role in Fate," Pabbie said.

Alphonse focused inward and his form _rippled_ , settling into a pitch black raven. The bird turned to regard Grand Pabbie and croaked before taking to the air, flying through the hole in the wards and toward the city.

As he flew, Alphonse thought over Pabbie's tale. It had had a happy ending, and that was good. But a small part of him felt sorrow, as it had only reinforced the motto. Elsa had suffered for years before she had learned control. And it was only through the crucible of that suffering that she learned. It seemed he was never going to escape the ties that had bound him to the path before him.

The raven swatted its head and flew on. He had work to do.

 **Tell me what ya'll think. Who is Alphonse and what is his work? Hope ya'll enjoy**


	5. Assault of the Hoard

**Chapter Four: Assault of the Hoard**

As nighttime fell, Elsa, dressed in her least formal dress of brown wool, suppressed a giggle as Anna dragged her through the crowds, clutching her wrist like a lifeline and going on about each and every thing they came across in one long sentence. It seemed that no matter how many times she visited the marketplace, there was always a thousand and one things that amazed her. That in itself made Elsa happy.

Elsa was glad that Anna was able to convince her to take this break from "boring queenly stuff" for the night and indulge in the things she made possible. Kristoff had even gotten in on it and voiced the thought that she should experience the goods that were brought in from everywhere inside and outside the country, rather than simply reading about them. The statement had given Elsa a new respect for the soul of a bard that resided in her dear brother-in-law.

Eventually, Anna let go of Elsa's wrist after pulling her in front of a small stand that served hot apple cider. People milled around it, enjoying their drinks on the warm night. "Come on, Elsa, try it!" Anna said, practically shoving a glass of the spicy beverage into the queen's hands. Elsa looked at the glass with false apprehension, smiling inwardly at the look on Anna's face. The princess looked like she would explode with suspense. Elsa decided to take pity on her and took a sip. She coughed at the spicy flavor, but had to admit it was delicious.

As the queen and princess continued on in their two-woman train, Kristoff followed at a more slow-and-steady pace. Anna may have been moving faster, and dragging Elsa along at the same pace, but she stopped to stare and comment on every other sight. Kristoff simply followed, a smile on his face. He did not envy Elsa the role of being Anna's "market buddy", having experienced that many times even before they had been married.

Eventually, Anna stopped and let Elsa take a breather. The three, Kristoff having caught up, sat at an outdoor cafe, watching the sun set as they talked about everything they had done. Anna even tried to keep her babbling to a minimum, having learned a long time ago that "conversation" meant the others had to get a comment in every now and then.

As the sisters had their own conversation about this new thing called "white chocolate", Kristoff felt a strange chill run down his spine. It felt like he were being watched, or his wife and sister-in-law were. He quickly passed his gaze over the surrounding crowd, careful to not seem obvious. After a second sweep, his gaze settled on a man across the street sitting on a crate, wrapped in a brown cloak with his hood drawn up and a staff resting against his side.

Their rest over, Anna and Elsa stood to resume their "exploration". Kristoff watched the cloaked figure from the corner of his eye, instinct screaming at him that something was wrong. As he expected, the figure rose and began following them. He was close enough to keep them in his sights but far enough away to prevent anyone's suspicion. Anyone but Kristoff's. Grand Pabbie had always told him to trust his instincts, and that advice had never let him down. This man, whoever he was, had to go.

Kristoff hung back, falling further behind, until he was behind the hooded man's gaze. Kristoff threaded his way through the crowd, careful to keep Anna and Elsa in sight, as well. He came up behind the man and lunged for his shoulder … and cried out in surprise as he was spun around and pushed into a wall. The man had pivoted and swung the ice harvester around like a sack of grain, his forearm pressed against Kristoff's throat. "Do not touch me," the man growled. But Kristoff barely heard him.

The man's hood had come down in the struggle, freeing his eyes from the shadow of its cowl. Kristoff stared at those eyes, mismatched and blazing. Blue and gold, just as Anna had told him that morning. That gaze seemed to draw him in, draw the warmth from his blood like the waters under a frozen lake high in the mountains. So much pain, so much sorrow. How did this man get up in the morning?

The moment was broken when the man stiffened and looked away, sniffing the air like a hound catching scent. Like Sven when he sensed wolves or bears. The man let him go and told him to fetch the guards, then darted into the crowd. Kristoff could only stand there until he felt something, like icy claws digging into his back. Something really was wrong, but it wasn't that guy. A piercing shriek echoed from outside the town. Kristoff ran, but not to organize the guards.

He ran to protect his family.

* * *

Elsa lifted a glass to her lips, brimming with a new confection made by the local chocolatier, a mixture of warm milk and chocolate he called "hot cocoa". She prepared herself for the sweet taste … and dropped her glass in fear as a shrill cry sliced through the air around her, seeming to cut into her eardrums. Screams followed as people fled past them, away from the outskirts of town.

Elsa gasped in fear as she saw what had caused the commotion. A ragged line of figures strode with lurching steps, groaning and hissing as their eyes blazed with unearthly hate. The stench of decay washed over the queen, making her retch. Some part of her had to admit that Anna's description was spot on. It was what she had seen. The dead were walking, and they were invading Arendelle.

Anna, at the same time, was surprised by the arrival, but not by what it was. She had seen it before and so she skipped past the horror of the dead rising and shot straight to survival mode. She grabbed her sister's wrist, a dark reflection their careless fun mere seconds ago, and ran. Luckily, running was something she was really good at.

Well, she would have run if Elsa had moved. The queen was rooted in place, staring at the monsters drawing ever closer. "Elsa, come on! We have to go! Yes, they're real, now move!" Anna pulled and tugged and wrenched, but it was like trying to move an oak tree. Was Elsa really that scared? That thought frightened her more than the monsters did.

What Anna didn't see was Elsa's expression. There was no fear - there was only fury, and contempt. The queen jerked her arm from Anna's grasp and summoned her magic, the ice in her soul heeding the call with something almost like joy. She threw her arms up, icicles growing in the air, and thrust them down in a rain of frozen spears. Elsa's expression cleared and she took a step back, looking down at her hands in surprise and fear. She hadn't meant to do that. She had just … acted.

Elsa yelped as she felt someone scoop her up and run with her over their shoulder. Anna grinned shakily at her while hanging across their savior's other shoulder. It seemed Kristoff had found them and was taking them to safety. Elsa craned back her neck to look at the line of dead monsters and felt her stomach turn as she saw more climbing over their splintered fellows and _running_ after them. Then again, maybe the nauseas feeling was the fact that she was being carried by a none-too-gentle ice harvester.

Elsa flinched at the sound of a great explosion and Kristoff let them slide off his shoulders. Elsa actually shriked in surprise. The bridge to the castle, to the people's best line of protection, had been destroyed! How?! That unearthly shrill cry slashed through the air again. The guards began herding the people to the ledge that led to the castle, as far away from the invading force as possible, and lining up to do their job.

The guards were all armed with long spears and iron-braced shields, defenses locked together into a strong wall with the spearheads pointing out. Elsa nodded at the technique, which she had devised herself with input from her guard captains. Though Elsa was diplomatic by nature, her father had always warned her to be wary of war. After Hans's attempt to usurp the throne, Elsa had taken this lesson to heart and had her guardsmen trained into an elite defensive force.

The guardsmen locked their shields and moved forward at a slow-but-steady pace. Elsa, thinking quickly, reached for the power inside her and spread her arms, her magic racing out to the sides of her and forming a strong foundation. She raised her hands up and created a tall wall of ice that would protect her people should the guards fall. She closed her fingers into an iron fist, strengthening the ice harder than steel. That task complete, Elsa looked forward to assess her men.

The guardsmen were keeping the corpses back, but little else. The monsters gave no reaction when the spear points struck them, hammering away at the guardsmen's shields in unmitigated violence. It had only been a few minutes since the groups had clashed, and the guardsmen were being driven back by the creatures' undead strength and superior numbers.

Staring at the corpses assaulting her men, Elsa felt that feeling from before rise in her gut, but this time different. She felt cold determination and resolve, like the cold mountain she had fled to two years ago. She absently felt her magic act on its own, weaving itself over her dress to form a new one.

Anna and Kristoff gaped as frost wove itself over Elsa, forming a thick dress with divided skirts, armored at the shoulders and along the arms and legs. Armored gloves covered her hands and thick boots her feet. A thick cape formed hanging from her shoulders, faux-fur of hoarfrost wrapping her neck. And on her brow grew a crown of ice, spiked with icicles and completing the image of war. An image of the implacable Snow Queen who would destroy all in her way.

Elsa dove into her magic and summoned a raging wind that drove the tide of creatures back. She strode with confidence she didn't realize she had between her awestruck guards and spread her arms, palms up. Above the queen grew a legion of ice-spears and with a flick of her wrist they darted into the mass of corpses, striking chests and limbs and heads. Some stayed down, most rose again. Elsa focused and struck the ground with her armored boot, sending a line of spikes roaring forward into the crowd and spearing a dozen more. Some still twitched, but the rest went still. And yet it was a single bite from the horse.

The corpses surged forward without hesitation, snarling and gnashing their teeth. Elsa kept up the pressure, adamant to never let these things touch her people. But the force that had motivated her was fading, and her skills were untrained. She felt her psyche returning to normal, fear replacing resolve. The guardsmen approached as her attacks slowed and surrounded her, relieved and ready to fight again. They clashed with the wave and held, but their creatures' numbers seemed endless. Even with Elsa's powers stemming the tide, their victory seemed far from certain. Soon, something would give …

A corpse got past the shield wall and lunged for Elsa. And before she could react the monster was speared out of the air, a large blade sticking from its chest as it twitched and went still. The thing was flung aside to reveal her savior: a young man with black hair, dressed in a hooded blue cloak and mouth set in a fearsome scowl. Elsa took a step back on sheer instinct as his gaze locked with hers.

The young man's spearhead shimmered and faded away as he spun his staff above his head, the wood glowing with blue light. He let out a piercing cry and plunged his staff into the ground, cracking the cobblestones. A blue letter blazed over his staff and ropes of fire surged from it, growing into walls of pure destruction. The curtains of flame burned blue and enveloped every monster in sight, cooking them to ash and cinders. And as quickly as they had appeared, the flames vanished, leaving only swirling clouds of ash where nightmares had been and blackened ruts where the fires had raged.

Elsa stood stunned for a moment, marveling at the scene before her. Her trance was broken by the sound of something falling beside her. She looked to see the man who had saved them spread out on the ground. Elsa gasped and knelt beside him, checking for a heartbeat. His heart was beating like a horse's despite his clear exhaustion. The man stirred and fumbled at his belt-pouch, removing something small. A stone figure of a rearing horse. Wait, what was wrong with it's legs?

The man tossed the figurine to the side and it cracked in two. Green mist began to emerge from the fragments, rapidly growing into a cloud of fog that dispersed to reveal a large grey horse, clad in leather riding gear. The beast approached and the man grasped its reins, the horse yanking him up and into the saddle. And like an arrow from a bow, the horse shot forward, out of sight in mere seconds.

Elsa was quickly surrounded by guards, fussing over her health, thanking her for her aide, complimenting her prowess. Elsa shook it all off and demolished her ice wall, the barrier dissolving into snowflakes that danced in the wind and out to sea. The people cheered and rushed forward, enveloping the guards and their queen.

Back in somewhat familiar territory, Elsa called for them to return to their homes, her voice carrying over the shouting of the crowd. The people quieted down under the orders of their queen and began to slowly disperse, occasionally still shouting praises of their queen.

That done, Elsa approached the ruins of the bridge to her home. She wove a replacement of ice, rough to prevent accidents, and told one of the guards to inform the royal masons that they had a new job of utmost importance.

Elsa started at a hand on her shoulder, but relaxed when she saw it was Anna. The princess smiled with equal sadness, fear, and pride and embraced her sister. Elsa melted into the hug, drawing strength from the redhead. Anna drew back and looked Elsa in the eyes, as a sister rather than a princess.

"Who was that?" Anna asked, though not in fear.

"I don't know," Elsa replied. "But I get the feeling we will find out soon enough."

* * *

Alphonse clutched at the ethereal horse's reins and fought at the waves of fatigue that washed over him, each more powerful than the last. In no time at all, they had reached the woods that surrounded the town. After a few more moments, the horse slowed and stopped, allowing Alphonse to shakily dismount and collapse against a tree. The horse that had carried him neighed and reverted to mist, the haze swirling and condensing until it left another stone figurine.

Alphonse trembled with sudden cold, his body was still charged with the power of Creation. But that unnatural energy barely held back the crushing weariness from using that very same magic. The mage's chest heaved, his body starved of oxygen and his muscles burning like the fires he had conjured. A small part of his mind that was still coherent berated himself for doing something so … unnecessarily huge.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was more likely less than a minute, he passed out cold into a dreamless sleep. As he slept, he was unaware of the pair of birds that watched over him.

 **What did ya'll think? Leave a review if you liked the action**


	6. Flight and Family

**Chapter Five: Flight and Family**

Alphonse's sleep was void of dreams, a long stretch of merciful oblivion that seemed to last mere seconds. His peace was shattered as a loud noise pierced the protective fog of his rest. A loud tapping that echoed in his ears and skull. A sound he knew well and considered unwelcome.

Knowing in the depths of his addled brain what would come soon after, Alphonse stretched his body and worked the kinks out of his muscles, his spine popping a worrying number of times. He blindly reached into his leather satchel and fumbled around for a flask of water and some jerky. As he removed them, he sighed and relaxed again, his body pulling him back into the folds of sleep.

Before he could fall back into slumber, he felt a pair of thin feet on his chest, right under his collarbone, that dug into his flesh through his shirt. A sharp object began jabbing into his forehead. With a grunt of pain, Alphonse opened his eyes and shooed the creature away, checking his forehead for blood and relieved when he found none. He glared at the creature settled beside him, a pitch-black raven.

"What?" he asked the bird. "What do you want so urgently?" The bird croaked and hopped forward, eliciting a flinch from the mage. Somehow the bird looked smug as it preened it feathers and ruffled them with an air of vanity.

"I wish to show you the fruits of your labor," the raven answered in a smooth, cultured voice. The raven hopped into the air and settled on Alphonse's head and dug its talons into his ebony hair, nearly pulling it from his scalp, and froze stiff as a statue.

Alphonse gasped and felt his stomach heave, his Awareness being torn from his body and dragged into the air by the raven's spirit like a mouse in the claws of a falcon. Alphonse's vision became sharper as the world became blurry, distorted like in his Dreams. The experience would have given him a headache if he were still in his body.

 _Alphonse saw a black blur shoot past him, the_ other _one, before he was circling over the courtyard of Arendelle Castle. His vision seemed to naturally focus on the small group in the courtyard, as if drawn by a magnet. He saw two women and a man, plus a reindeer and a … was that snowman moving around on its own?!_

 _Alphonse's hearing caught up to him, sharper just like his vision. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" he overheard the queen say. The princess giggled and assured her that it was fine._

" _We'll be alright, Elsa," the man said. The princess's husband, Alphonse decided. "If anyone can explain what those monsters were, it's Grand Pabbie." Alphonse couldn't help but notice a touch of warmth in the man's tone. Oh right, Pabbie had said his grandson had married the princess._

" _And maybe he'll tell us something about that guy in the cloak," the princess added. "It would be awesome to have another magician in the castle!"_

 _The queen seemed to fold her arms. "He's not a puppy to be adopted, Anna. for all we know, he's as dangerous to us as he is to those monsters." The queen paused. "Besides, I'm not a magician. I don't know what you would call me, but I refuse that title. It sounds … undignified."_

 _The princess giggled again and hugged the queen before promising to be back before dark and climbing into the sled as it shot off and through the town, heading for the trail that led up the mountain. The queen returned to the castle, her posture not quite certain, yet not unhappy either._

 _Alphonse's vision swung back around and fell in a deep dive for the trees around Arendelle, through the branches and …_

His body convulsed as his Awareness was plunged back into its rightful place. He turned and gagged, only the fact that there was nothing to retch up keeping him from being sick. He took a moment to settle his heartbeat and turned back to glare at the raven, now accompanied by its twin.

"You know how much I hate that," he almost-shouted, pointing at them in accusation. The ravens' heads turned to regard each other before they broke out into croaks and craws; it was their version of laughter and would have been funny if it were not so unsettling. After a few moments, their laughs cut off like it had been sliced by a knife and they regarded him seriously.

"Your little stunt last night has gotten people moving around. And when that happens, the enemy takes notice," the left raven said, it's voice harsh and commanding like a commander or drill sergeant, utterly unlike the other's voice. A scar over its left eye was the only difference between the two besides their voices.

Alphonse grimaced and tried to suppress a growl of frustration. He had been dealing with these two since the incident sixteen years ago, much to his chagrin. And yet after all that time, after all they had taught him, they still treated him like a child still wet behind the ears. As if they didn't really need him, though they all knew that was anything but true.

"Well, I couldn't just let all those people die, now could I?" he asked, his voice almost dripping with sarcasm and scorn in equal amounts. "You two always talk about protecting people from the things that survived the Doom of your kind. How exactly is what I did not 'protecting'?" The birds seemed to pause at his words and regarded each other in a silent conversation.

"Munin," the soft-spoken one said, "why don't you keep an eye on the sled? They might be followed, after all. I'll handle this." Alphonse sighed at being spoken of as if his concerns were unworthy of note, as if he were not even there. Munin looked at him before bobbing his head in a nod.

"I think I shall do just that," he said before darting into the air, wheeling his way toward the distant mountains. Alphonse picked up his staff and began making his way back to town, munching on his jerky before washing it down with water from his flask. For a moment he wished for something a bit stronger.

The remaining raven flew after him and settled on his shoulder, swaying in time to his movements. The bird waited a moment before addressing him. "You know that we are only looking out for you, yes?" he asked gently.

"Don't patronize me, Hugin," Alphonse said, spitting the raven's name like a curse. "You don't care about me, at least not for myself. You only care about me at all because I act on your so-called mission."

The raven, Hugin, hesitated before nodding in acceptance. "What you say is true," he replied, "we do care for the mission, likely above all else. And you are our agent in that cause." He paused for effect - the bird had always had an annoying sense for dramatics. "But that doesn't mean we haven't grown attached to you," he added.

Alphonse hardened his heart against the honey-smooth words. Hugin had always been good at calming him down, at swaying him toward his and Munin's way of thinking. Especially when he was young (well, younger) and impressionable. Alphonse's experiences with them during his teenage years were evidence of his skill at reassurance. But Alphonse had learned long ago better than to fully trust him or his brother.

The raven's name meant "thought", and Alphonse had always found that title fitting for a creature that seemed able to read his own.

Hugin leapt off his shoulder and into the sky as Alphonse entered the edges of Arendelle. He took note of his surroundings, memorizing the town's layout should he need anything before he inevitably left. Vendors were preparing to present their wares and proper shops were slowly beginning to open. Alphonse thought he heard the ringing of a smithy in the distance. He tried to ignore it, the sound trudging up painful memories.

As a unit of guards came into view, marching through their rounds as they watched for suspicious behavior and listened for cries of distress, Alphonse focused on his cloak. The enchanted material shifted its colors from deep blue to a drab brown that blended in to the wool of surrounding citizens. The guards passed him without so-much as a sideways glance.

As Alphonse neared the bridge that led to the castle, he was surprised to find that security had been increased. On second thought, he really shouldn't have been so surprised. The gates were open, but guards were positioned at the patched bridge's entrance, ready to protect the castle and it inhabitants.

In response to the guards' presence, Alphonse hung back and descended to the rocky shores underneath the bridge. He took a moment to appreciate the the beauty of the ice and the details carved into it, such as the crocus of Arendelle, before settling on one of the rocks and gazing over the fjord. After a brief moment, Hugin fluttered down and perched on another boulder.

"What would you have me do?" he asked curiously. He was unlikely to agree, but the bird was infuriatingly clever and his advice, while often coldly pragmatic and occasionally bordering on brutal, was still worthwhile to listen to.

"Find the Snow Queen and strike up trust," the raven answered. "The woman and her family are the center of the events in Arendelle. You will need her trust in order to move forward, to foil this plot that is unfolding before us." And with that cheery sentiment, the bird flew off and into the sun, preventing Alphonse for tracking where he would go.

Alphonse bit back a growl of irritation. Hugin's advice was acceptable, but it would be nice to get an answer that wasn't so cryptic, just once. He wondered briefly if it would kill him just once to be straightforward and decided that it probably would.

Alphonse popped his neck and climbed back up to the town proper, staff in hand, and headed straight for the guards. The ravens like their games, moving people along like pieces on a chess board, but manipulation is what arguably led to the Doom of their kind in the first place. Alphonse resolved to do this his way.

He would be honest.

* * *

Anna and Kristoff walked through the familiar mists surrounding the Valley of Living Rock arm-in-arm, enjoying each other's company while mulling over what they would asked the troll chief. It was some time before noon (they had made excellent time) so the trolls would be in shadow, allowing them to wake up.

As the happy couple strode into the Valley proper, the trolls unfurled and cheered their arrival. It always amounted to a small celebration when Anna and Kristoff visited, though Anna doubted the trolls needed much excuse to celebrate anything.

The couple mingled with the trolls, laughing and catching up. Before the trolls could start one of their famous musical numbers, Kristoff addressed the other reason for their visit. The trolls quieted down as Anna began, captivated by the story of Elsa fighting the monsters before a mysterious hooded figure finished them off and vanished. The crowd was silent until another troll rolled forward, unfolding to reveal Grand Pabbie. The troll greeted them warmly and led them further into the Valley, eventually arriving at a large cave set into the crags of the mountain. Closer inspection revealed that the cave had most likely been dug out by the trolls themselves.

Grand Pabbie turned to address his grandson and and the princes, his expression somehow both grave and warm at the same time. "It seems you have had quite the encounter with the draugr, one suitable for the epic tales of times long past," he said. Kristoff and Anna shared a glance, both chuckling at the understatement.

"Yeah," Anna answered, "we really need to learn more about those drag-dro- whatever they are."

Pabbie nodded and led the way into the cave, illuminated by glowing crystals. Anna and Kristoff marveled at the images carved into the walls: monsters and beasts, heroes and conquerors, objects and animals. Every image was surrounded by the flowing, vine-like swirls that made up troll writing. Kristoff could decipher a little of it in passing, and what he could see made him shiver. Some of this stuff was pretty dark.

After a few minutes, Pabbie stopped before a carving of a pale corpse, the spitting image of a draugr that seemed to shamble despite being carved into the stone. "A draugr," Pabbie explained, "is the deceased body of a human whose soul refuses to move on. They retain some purpose that they desire to fulfil and so remain in the world of the living to do so.

"Draugr often desire revenge for some great perceived wrong, such as their murder or that of a loved one. Revenge is a powerful thing to the dead. Some draugr desire to protect the ones they love from harm, their love for that person twisted into a dangerous force. And still others desire to protect treasure from those who would take it, motivated by greed." The troll chief moved on to an image of a draugr fighting a man armed with a sword.

"Draugr are inhumanly strong and feel no pain or fear, these things left behind with their passing. Caught between life and death as they are, they can move through stone like water, and can find the focus of their ire over any distance. Though difficult, they can be destroyed. Pure iron burns their unnatural nature, and they can be killed again with fire or decapitation. Their hold on this life is severed and they are forced to move on."

Anna mulled over what Grand Pabbie had said, questions growing in her head like mushrooms after a heavy rain. "So if they want revenge, why would they go after me and Elsa? We haven't done anything to them." A scary thought crossed the princess's mind. "Did we?" Pabbie shook his head, alleviating her fears.

"It is true that draugr usually attack with purpose, though that purpose can sometimes be hard to divine. However, their very nature being trapped between two worlds leaves them vulnerable to being enslaved by a learned sorcerer. I, as well as another knowledgeable in these things, believe someone has taken control of these draugr, perhaps even forcibly made some of them, to take revenge on you both."

As Anna tried to figure out who with that kind of power would have a grudge against her or Elsa, Kristoff picked up on one word. "Another?" he asked. "You mean the man in the blue cloak, right?" Pabbie smiled warmly at his grandson. Kristoff may not look it at first, but the ice harvester was sharp as a tack despite lacking a formal education. One could argue that this freedom of mind made him more open to intuition. Pabbie nodded in acknowledgement of Kristoff's observation.

"Less than a day ago, a young man visited me to learn what he could about the events rising in Arendelle. The man wore a blue hooded cloak and carried a staff of ashwood carved with ancient runes. And most strangely, he possessed eyes of differing color, one blue and one gold." The shaman's eyes grew somber. "This man walks a dangerous path, fighting the darkness that remains from … other times. And his path is even lonelier than you know, princess."

Anna's eyes widened at the shaman's words, knowing Pabbie would never make a comparison like that lightly. She shared a look with Kristoff before asking their last question, the last piece of advice they needed. "Can we trust him?" she asked softly. While it was in Anna's nature to trust people, her ordeal with Hans had taught her to temper that nature with caution.

"I believe you can trust the man himself just as much as you trust each other," Pabbie answered. "He has endured immeasurable suffering in his life, but his heart remains pure." Pabbie's gaze took on a hard cast. "But be warned. He is guided by forces that, while not malicious, should not be trusted so easily."

Pabbie led them out of the cave and back to the entrance of the Valley. As they approached, the Valley slowly became lighter, the sun rising overhead to shine into the trolls' haven. "I know you have much to think about, my children," Pabbie said, "but allow me to give one last piece of advice." The troll regarded them with a strange balance of seriousness and subtle humor. "Trust in Alphonse. He will help you, and he will help Elsa. In more ways than one, I suspect." As the troll shaman chuckled at these words, he folded back into a boulder, his chuckles seeming to persist through the wind.

Kristoff led the way back to the sled and on the way back down the mountain Anna couldn't help but puzzle over Pabbie's last words? _In more ways than one_. What could he have meant?

 **New chapter. R &R**


	7. A Formal Meeting

**Chapter Six: A Formal Meeting**

After watching Anna and Kristoff drive away and into town, eventually up the mountain and to the Valley of Living Rock, Elsa strode through the castle thinking over what to do with her day. Before leaving, Anna had made her promise to take the day off from her work, at least until she got back. Elsa couldn't bring herself to break a promise to her younger sister, and a break for the morning would do her good.

After some thinking, Elsa decided to go to the library and read something that did not involve taxes, treaties, or other business-related affairs. On her way to the library, thoughts of the mysterious stranger crossed her mind. She really hoped that Grand Pabbie knew something about him. It would be nice to know if he were an ally or enemy. Or if he was ambivalent and therefore able to be at least partially left alone.

As Elsa walked along the shelves, her fingers running over the leather spines, Elsa lazily read the titles hoping something would strike her interest. Her thoughts roamed to those things from last night, a flicker of recollection tickling the back of her mind. Hadn't she read about something like that? Or heard about … ? A thought struck her like a lightning bolt and she moved along the shelves with purpose.

Elsa eventually came across the book she had in mind and removed it from the shelf. _Stories of Old: A Study in Northman Lore_ , it said. Her fingers traced over the author: _Agdar of Arendelle_. Ela smiled sadly at the book, an old friend she had nearly forgotten about.

Elsa and Anna's father had been an avid writer in his youth, before he was named king. He had collected stories from across the country, told by those old enough to remember the closest to the original versions, and had compiled them as a hobby during his teenage years, when the heir-apparent was encouraged to get out and experience the country they were meant to someday rule. Elsa felt tears prickling her eyes and brushed them away. That particular tradition had been broken with Elsa, but she resolved to preserve it with the next heir, whomever that would be.

Elsa moved to a chair in front of the fireplace and opened the book, familiar tales that her father had told them as children recorded in its pages. The old stories: The frost and fire and stone and mountain jotun who threatened humanity, the Aesir and Vanir who protected them while getting into more than enough mischief of their own, and the dreaded Ragnarok that ended it all.

While Elsa, like all of her people, was a devoted member of the Church, her father had read these stories to her, a comfort during the hard years when she had tried to learn to control her powers. During those dark times, these tales of deities and magic, good and bad, had lifted her spirits if ever-so-slightly.

Remembering the look of the man who saved her, Elsa flipped through the book, eventually settling on an illustration, one of many drawn by her father. It depicted the All-Father Odin, the chieftain of the Aesir in his "wanderer" disguise, the one he used to travel around Earth, or Midgard. The picture showed an older man with a strong face, dressed in a cloak and wide-brimmed hat, wearing and eye patch and a solemn expression. If you used your imagination, it almost looked like …

A knock on the door made Elsa jump, her heart pounding. "Enter," she called, grateful her voice didn't shake. The door opened to reveal Kai, her ever-faithful steward, answer her call. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed before speaking. "Your Majesty, a young man has requested your presence with both exceptional persistence and patience. He claims to have information regarding the 'events' of last night." Elsa's eyes widened, then narrowed, and she nodded. Tucking the book under her arm to browse later, Elsa followed the portly butler to a small audience room.

On the way, Elsa's mind was far from quiet. If the guards had increased security, why had a single person been allowed an audience with only the promise of information. Why not just ask the man what he knew and send him off with a pouch of coins? And what kind of information would a man have that would have him wait out a meeting with the Crown itself? What was going on? After several minutes, Kai opened the door to the audience chamber. Elsa's eyes widened at the person sitting before her.

Sitting to the side facing the fireplace, flanked by guards and writing in a small notebook, was the same man from last night; the man who had saved her people from the hoard of corpses. A man who, like her, could use magic. That, of course, was the only explanation for what he had done last night.

The man noticed her and turned his chair to face her, bowing just low enough for courtesy as he did. He sat again and placed his notebook in the satchel hanging over his shoulder, his cloak spread over the back of his chair. He sat back, wove his fingers and leaned forward, elbows on knees, with his chin resting on his knuckles. He just looked at her, giving her the chance to study him in greater detail.

He was young, she noticed first, perhaps a year old than herself. His hair was as black as midnight, darker than hers was light, and hung loose to his shoulders to frame a lean, pale face with prominent cheekbones. He looked like he would be tall, if standing, and was wiry, yet seemed rather muscular. His staff, carved with familiar symbols, sat next to him.

His eyes were striking, and not just because of the differing colors, colors Anna had described on the wolf that had saved her. His eyes were intense yet not threatening, wise beyond his years. And sad, so very sad. She regarded the small smile that curled his lips, as false as a golden tooth. She would know, she had seen such a smile countless times before - in her mirror.

"Queen Elsa," his voice was not deep, but it carried, "my name is Alphonse. It is a true pleasure to meet you." The man, Alphonse, glanced at the guards flanking him. "Before we begin, I would suggest we put all of our cards on the table." Alphonse lifted his hand, palm up, and clicked his tongue. His hand was engulfed in blue flames, burning like a torch. He closed his fingers and the flames went out. The guards, who had gripped their swords at an act of magic not from their queen, in the presence of their queen, relaxed.

"I'm certain you have many questions," Alphonse said, "or you wouldn't have sent the ice harvester to consult his foster family." Elsa's brows rose in surprise and Alphonse smiled that false smile again. "I do have other skills besides pyromancy, Queen Elsa," he said and stood, leaving his cloak, staff, and satchel behind. "The trolls are wise, Queen Elsa, but their knowledge is secondhand, at best. I have fought these things myself, many times." His tone carried no pride in his achievements nor arrogance in his skills, simply fact. He looked her straight in the eye. "You have no reason to trust me, Queen Elsa, but I swear that you can. I will do everything in my power to help you vanquish this threat to your kingdom."

Elsa looked deeply into his mismatched eyes and saw no deceit, no self-serving desire that would characterize nearly any lord, baron, _duke_ , or royal who came with such an offer. In his eyes she saw only honesty. And yet an image of Hans Westergard flashed before her mind's eye. He had seemed honest when he spoke to her in that jail cell, begging her to stop the winter out of apparent concern for her people. And then he had left Anna, his fiancee, her sister, to die and tried to kill Elsa to take over her home. She felt, deep down, that she really could trust this man, but perhaps a second or third pair of eyes would help.

"I will have to discuss this with my advisors, Mr. Alphonse," she said, referring to Anna and Kristoff rather than her royal advisors. It was better to be polite than hostile to an apparent ally, so her father had often said. Alphonse "smiled" again and nodded.

"I would expect nothing less. The troll shaman, Grand Pabbie, told me your story. Given those … experiences your reservations are quite understandable. And very wise, if I might add." Alphonse picked up his things and bowed before making for the door. He paused at the threshold.

"You don't have to call me 'mister', my lady. Alphonse will do just fine. I will be in the gardens if you need me." And with that, he left. One of the guards approached her.

"Keep an eye on him, she ordered gently. "Make sure he stays in the garden." The guard nodded and left to follow his quarry.

* * *

Up in the mountains, Anna and Kristoff made their way down the mountain while discussing Pabbie's advice. Engrossed in their discussion, they didn't notice a red-feathered hawk observing them. On a whim, the raptor looked up and noticed a smaller, darker bird up ahead. A raven, if it was not mistaken. The hawk screeched and turned, flying south. The hawk eventually settled deep in the forest, near a burial mound.

The hawk ruffled it feathers and Shifted, its visage seeming to ripple as it changed into a tall, handsome, red-haired young man. Hans Westergard of the Southern Isles. Hans scowled in thought, considering what he had seen. Some part of him, that sliver buried deep in his soul, had known he should expect a raven or two shadowing the princess. And that same fleck of his consciousness knew that those birds heralded something that might complicate his plans. Perhaps it was time to get a little help with that.

Hans settled on the grass and reached into a pouch at his belt, removing a bottle of ointment. He uncorked it and dabbed some on his fingers before recorking it and putting it back where he could find it. Hans rubbed his fingertips together and spread the ointment over his face, starting at the center of his forehead and to the sides, down the sides of his face, over his jaw, and down his neck. He could feel the substance beginning to take effect and focused inward, trying to reach his deepest self.

After a moment, Hans seemed to open his eyes, revealing a world that was fluid and disjointed, like seen through a cracked mirror where the shards kept shifting. He focused and the undulations became faster, the atmosphere seeming to darken, until he reached a kind of twilight within himself. He kept going, just a little further, and a light like an ember appeared before him.

The ember caught fire and grew, forming a shape in the near-darkness. The shape resolved into a handsome young man, faintly glowing like the fire that had formed him. The man bore a passing resemblance to Hans himself, if a touch slimmer in the face and his nose smaller. His hair was lighter, orange like a candle flame, and his eyes were a kind of yellow-green. Faint scars ran down his cheeks, like he had long ago cried tears of fire, and a series of small scars lined his lips. There was an unmistakable air of madness around him, though Hans had felt worse around one of his brothers.

" **You saw the bird?"** the figure asked.

" _Yes,"_ Hans answered evenly. " _What does it mean, exactly?"_ The figure smiled deviously.

" **It means another piece has joined the game, a strong one. And another player, too."** The figure paused. " **You must learn what you can about this player and his piece, young Hans, if you are to act accordingly."** Hans thought this over, his clever mind examining it from every possible angle.

" _The draugr have failed,"_ he determined. " _They are no match for this one. Do you have a suggestion?"_

" **This is your scheme, young prince,"** the figure said, mockery just skimming his tone, " **but I encourage you in this. The best way to learn is yourself. And the strong do not suspect those they will not see."** The figure giggled and disappeared in a puff of flames.

Hans felt himself jerk back to reality, his body covered in sweat and his tongue dry as a bone. He narrowed his eyes, thinking over what he had learned. This part of him, the part that had made itself known on the trip back to the Southern Isles when he had been driven half mad with thirst, had taught him much, given him wisdom and power. It had taught him passively, at least. It was almost as if he were rediscovering something he had learned long ago. Perhaps he had.

Hans briefly thought about summoning more draugr, but banished the thought just as quickly. It was true, they had failed. Then a thought entered his head as he considered what the figure had said. Hans had last time lost because he did not truly understand his opponents. So who did those in power not see? Hans grinned maliciously as an idea formed in his mind. An idea that was anything but good for the royals of Arendelle.

Hans Shifted back into a hawk and flew north, toward the castle he had almost had. This time, it would be his.

 **Dun dun dunnnnn! What do ya'll think? Leave a review if you like what you see.**


	8. Interactions and Dreams

**Chapter Seven: Introductions**

Anna walked through the halls of the castle on auto-pilot, her feet knowing where to go even as she thought over everything she and Kristoff had talked about on the way back. They had agreed to keep Pabbie's last piece of advice a secret, at least until they could figure out what it meant. As she passed by members of the staff, many of them did a doubletake at their for-once-not-running/singing/laughing princess. It was odd enough to almost make some of them worry.

Eventually, Anna came to the doors of the library. She had already checked Elsa's study and bedroom, both turning up empty. Besides that one balcony she sometimes sat on just looking at the fjord, this was the most likely place to find the queen. If she was wrong again, it had to be the balcony. Right? Elsa was many things, but spontaneous was not usually one of them. That may be faintly annoying sometimes, but other times it came in handy.

Anna eased open the doors, conscious of the general "no loud noise in a library" rule that her sister followed almost religiously, and peeked in. Nothing yet, but it was a fairly large library. Anna entered fully, easing the doors closed and grimacing at a squeaky hinge (she should probably have that fixed at some point) and checked a few of the aisles. Still nothing.

"Elsa?" Anna whisper-called. "Elsa? Are you here?"

"I'm here." Anna shrieked at her sister's voice right behind her. Elsa laughed as Anna seemed to jump a good five feet. Maybe six, but who was counting? Anna spun around to find her sister, graceful as ever, with a book under her arm and a just-too-innocent glimmer in her eye. Anna's annoyance was replaced, and then some, by her usual enthusiasm and she grabbed Elsa's wrist, dragging her to the fireplace at the front of the library.

"Elsa, Pabbie told us about the monsters! Oh wait, he said they were something else- um, oh draugr, that's it! He told us about the draugr and why they're here - oh, and the guy in the hood, what was his name? He only said it once so I'm-"

"Anna," Elsa interrupted gently, knowing full well that the princess could go on like this for a quite-frankly amazing length before getting back to her point, "did Pabbie say we could trust him?" Elsa tried to keep the nervousness from her tone, and wasn't sure she had succeeded. Anna paused at the question before a wide smile blossomed across her face.

"Yeah, Elsa, he said we could trust him. He said the guy will help us." Anna looked away for just a moment, but enough for Elsa to see that there was more to it. The queen raised an eyebrow in silent question. Anna hummed in thought before her expression cleared again. "It would probably be easier if we could just talk to the guy," she explained. "So now we just have to find him."

Elsa gave a small smirk. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard," she said and walked away. Anna stood for a few moments, trying to wrap her head around what had happened, before shaking it off and following. She knew that look. Elsa knew something she didn't. But what could have happened in the brief (okay, maybe not-so-brief) time she had been gone?

* * *

Kristoff led Sven to one of the grassy yards that rested within the castle walls. The yard was always peaceful and Sven had earned a break. Sven wandered toward a tree planted near the wall and settled down, heaving a sigh of contentment as he prepared for a nap. Kristoff knew that Sven was hardly tired - a trip up and down the mountain was a pleasure cruise compared to a workday - but Kristoff also knew the value of taking it easy when you could. And Sven knew that value even better than him.

Kristoff sat as well, leaning up against Sven's side and trying to relax in turn. Anna had gone off to find Elsa and tell her about Grand Pabbie's advice, or at least most of it, which left Kristoff with nothing to do. Which was fine by him; a day off every once in awhile was good, healthy even.

Kristoff relaxed, the rhythmic sound of Sven's heavy breathing lulling him into a good doze. Just before he settled into full sleep, he caught the sound of voices. Voices? Two different ones sounded a little angry, and it sounded like a third one was trying to mediate. Kristoff sat up to listen more closely. Yep, definately three voices. Too far off to hear clearly, though.

Even breathing meant that Sven was still fast asleep, but Kristoff's curiosity was burning. Coming to a decision, Kristoff silently rose and crept, quickly-but-quietly, to a corner of the wall that hid the voices. He eased along the wall and stopped just before it turned, focusing on the voices.

"For the last time, I'm not going the enchant the queen," one voice said. It sounded young, maybe about his own age, and like the speaker were holding his temper in check. With limited success.

"A wise decision," another voice said. This one was smooth and oily, like some of the salesmen Kristoff had met. "Her magic would protect her, at least enough to render the enchantment useless. It is Old power, much like your own. And quite powerful, I might add."

"I meant not at all, Hugin!" The first voice again, and just a little louder. "These women have been through enough. Not that you two would care at all about that, but I do. Not to mention the fact that it's just wrong!"

"Well, boy, whatever you do you have better do it fast!" that voice was harsh and commanding, like the captains of the Castle Guard. "This two-bit sorcerer shant just sit willy-nilly while you have tea and cakes with the ladies trying to make friends! You need to establish dominance; take control of this tiny spit of sovereignty and send those idling troops off to do something useful!" Wait, what? Were these guys trying to take over Arendelle?

"The queen is powerful," the second voice reasoned, "perhaps she could be of aide. The shaman did say that she plunged her kingdom into a midsummer winter, and utterly by accident at that. Imagine what that kind of power could do, especially properly focused." Kristoff was liking what he heard less and less.

"Queen Elsa has her own responsibilities," the first voice countered. "I will not ask her to take up your thrice-damned crusade. She has a nation to look after, not to mention a family. You of all people know about duty as a monarch, Munin." What did that mean? Kristoff clenched his fists in frustration - he hated being in the dark like this. It was high time to put faces to these voices. He peeked around the corner.

A man in a now quite-familiar blue cloak was standing in a small, walled-in niche hidden from the rest of the yard by sides of the castle walls coming together. He stood alone under the large oak that left the small nook in shade, his posture tense as if preparing for a fight. The only other living things were a pair of black birds perched in the oak's lowest branches. Wait a moment - then who else could have been speaking?

"It seems you have finally learned some skill with words, Alphonse," the second voice said. A voice that came from one of the birds. Kristoff's eyes widened in surprise. He had been raised by trolls, seen a palace carved flawlessly from ice, was the brother-in-law to the Snow Queen herself, and the might-as-well-be brother-in-law of a talking snowman. Talking birds really shouldn't surprise him this much. And yet, they did just that.

The man in the cloak, Alphonse, stamped his staff in frustration. "The queen will help us here, I'm certain of that. She will do anything to protect her family." Was that a hint of sadness in the man's voice? "But she will help us because she _chooses_ to, not because you two try to force her. Is that clear?"

Alphonse tensed and looked toward the rest of the yard, toward Kristoff. The ice harvester jerked his head back behind cover, hiding the small part of himself that had been showing. "Elsa's coming," he heard Alphonse say. "You two don't like to be seen, right? So I suggest you _get out of here_!" Kristoff heard the birds croak, presumably in response, and the flapping of wings that faded into the distance. With the birds gone, Kristoff eased himself down with a quiet sigh. He perked up again at the sound of footsteps on the grass and closed his eyes, trying to appear asleep. The footsteps stopped right next to him.

"You might as well stand up. I know you heard every word." Kristoff looked up into the shadow cast by the man's hood, guilt squirming in his gut. Why he felt guilty he couldn't say. Then again, maybe it was simply wariness. If his experiences with Elsa were anything to judge by, it never paid to antagonize people involved with magic, even the ones who seemed benign. Maybe he should say something?

"Sorry," Kristoff settled on, "I was just curious." He winced internally at the flimsy excuse. And yet, to his surprise, the cloaked mage simply smirked and lowered his hood, revealing his dark hair and dual-colored eyes.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," he replied simply and offered a hand to help him up. Kristoff briefly studied the man, who fit Elsa's description to a tee, and took the proffered hand. Alphonse clasped Kristoff's forearm in an old form of greeting.

"Alphonse," he offered in a name.

"Kristoff Bjorgman," the ice harvester replied.

Alphonse narrowed his eyes and moved a little closer, as if studying him. His head tilted to the side and then covered his left eye, the blue eye, with his hand. He still looked at him for a few more seconds before lowering his hand with a hum of thought.

"I never would have pegged the shaman for blessing a Fetch," he said, almost to himself. Before he could consider what that meant, Kristoff caught the sound of Anna calling him. Alphonse snorted in amusement and eyed Kristoff.

"A wise man comes running to the call of his wife," he said wryly. Kristoff couldn't tell if it were some old saying or he had simply made it up to sound old. After a split second, he decided that it really didn't matter and led the way. Maybe now they could all compare notes.

* * *

Elsa smiled to herself as she tuned out Anna's calls for her husband, the sound easily carrying across the castle's small island. At least she wasn't running ahead. Usually when Anna wanted something, she bolted from one end of the castle to the other until either found it herself or someone else brought it to her (not an easy feat since she never stopped moving).

Eventually, Kristoff came into view. And he wasn't alone. Elsa's eyes widened at the sight of a massive black wolf padding along beside the mountain man, as if it had every right to be there. Anna stopped in her tracks at the sight, a small smile on her face.

"So, Kristoff. Who's your friend?" she asked. Kristoff raised an eyebrow in confusion and gestured to his left, but saw no one there. He looked down a gave a quite-unmanly yelp at the sight of the wolf. The creature looked up at him and snickered (wait, snickered?) before turning to Anna.

"Greetings, Princess Anna. How are you?" It spoke … in a voice that was unmistakably Alphonse's. The wolf bent its forelegs and lowered its head, an effective version of a bow, and its form _rippled_ for the briefest moment before Alphonse stood before them and straightened up from his bow at the waist.

"Woah …" Anna said, eyes wide. "Do it again!" she said, a grin splitting her face.

"Anna, he's not a show pony," Elsa scolded. But when she looked back, Alphonse was once again a wolf. The wolf (Elsa was having a little trouble thinking of it as Alphonse) padded toward Anna, only craning its neck back a little to look her in the eyes.

"Is there something you wish to say?" the wolf asked.

"Thank you," Anna said, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you for saving me." The wolf went stock-still, and after a moment he wriggled out of her grasp. He rippled and Alphonse was back before them.

"You are more than welcome, Princess Anna," he said, a small smile gracing his face. A pensive look crossed his features and he looked at each of them in turn. "Perhaps we should fill in each others' gaps in knowledge. I doubt whatever has it in for you two," he gestured at Elsa and Anna, "is done."

Elsa nodded and took the lead. It was time to learn all they could.

As they walked, Alphonse's gaze flickered over each of the royals. He could See something … off? … about their auras, their life forces. It wasn't something _wrong_ , just different. And somehow faintly familiar. He wanted to brush it off, but a part of him was adamant that it was important. Whatever it was.

* * *

Elsa twisted and turned in her bed, thoughts about the day winding through the corridors of her mind. Alphonse's insights into their dilemma had helped them understand what they had been up against. When they had finished, Alphonse had been shown the room that Anna had insisted he use while staying with them - the room that was right across the hall from Elsa's. She hadn't been sure how to take that, and Alphonse had seemed to shrug it off.

According to the guard she had assigned to escort Alphonse through the castle, he had immediately visited the castle carpenter and stoneworker, borrowing a number of chisels, which he had used to carved a series of large glyphs, each composed of clusters of old runes, on the frames of the castle gates. He had then proceeded to do the same to the door and window frames of his room, Anna and Kristoff's, and her own. The guard had asked why he was doing so, and the mage had claimed that the glyphs were protections, wards against draugr and … other things.

Elsa had examined the glyphs that protected her room and had been struck at how the masses of blocky letters could look so … elegant.

Elsa rolled onto her back as she considered the dark-haired mage. Elsa had first seen the man the day before, and had only properly met him a number of hours ago. And yet, despite that, she felt a sort of … kinship with him - one like she had never felt with anyone, not even Anna. That look in his eyes, the one that spoke of a wounded soul and unshakable burden - it was much like she herself had felt for so many years. Was this feeling, this connection, what Anna had felt when she met Hans? Elsa's fingers clenched at the thought of the Southern Isles prince, the one Alphonse had theorized was behind the draugr. Familiar doubts rose within the queen; was he anything like Hans?

Those doubts were swept away by the memory of Anna's recount of their trip to the Valley of Living Rock. Pabbie had said he could be trusted. The troll chief's cryptic advice may have stunted her control over her powers and thus indirectly contributed to the Eternal Winter (he had apologized quite thoroughly when she had first visited the Valley with Anna and Kristoff), but she couldn't help but trust the shaman. He wasn't human, and his advice had been tailored by a non-human mind. This made it difficult for a human mind to properly interpret, a fact that was even more true for her parents - who had been on the verge of panic at the time. She didn't blame him for her predicament and valued his advice. And he had advised to trust Alphonse to help her and her family.

Elsa groaned and sat up at the feeling of cold creeping up her sheets, a tell-tale sign of frost forming from her storming thoughts. She came to the conclusion that sleep wouldn't come if she kept this up. Elsa rose from her bed and donned a robe, one thing on her mind: chocolate, the cure for all ailments. Hot chocolate would soothe her insomnia, as it often did during her bouts of anxiety.

Elsa crept through the castle, old instincts rising and keeping her from making a sound. Though she had long-since become queen, childhood memories of being caught by Gerda when she and Anna had raided the kitchens as children remained unforgotten, and old habits died hard. Upon finally reaching the kitchens, thankfully without incident, Elsa mentally prepared herself to make hot cocoa. But it would seem someone else had beat her to it.

A pale, fitful light flickered from within one of the pantries, as if from a torch, and it sounded as if someone were searching for something. A jar of milk sat on the corner of one of the counters, waiting for use. Elsa crept closer and looked in through the corner of her eye. A figure was rummaging through the shelves with one hand, a familiar blue flame flickering above the other.

"Alphonse?" Elsa asked. The man in question started and whirled around, his light almost guttering out in his surprise. It was only then that something clicked in Elsa's brain - Alphonse was bare-chested, clad only in the long dark pants he had worn that day. The queen felt warmth blossom in her cheeks at the sight.

"Queen Elsa," Alphonse greeted awkwardly. He seemed almost painfully aware that he had been caught raiding the kitchen, _her_ kitchen. Elsa tore her eyes from Alphonse's stunned face (his face! She was looking at his face!) and to the arm he was hiding behind his back. Her eyebrows rose as the mage before her seemed to take on a new light - he resembled a child with that wide-eyed look. Was this the look Gerda had seen those the many times she had caught her and Anna in the same situation? The thought made Elsa smile.

Elsa gestured to his hidden hand. "What have you got there?" Alphonse seemed to hesitate before producing a jar of honey.

"I couldn't sleep," he tried to explain. "That happens a lot, and milk and honey always helps."

Elsa chuckled at how their situations mirrored each other. "Why don't you put that back and I show you something that works better?" Elsa took a small cloth pouch from a nearby shelf and guided Alphonse to one of the smaller woodstoves, taking a pan out along the way. Wood was already set and ready for the morrow and out of habit, Elsa took out a pair of spark rocks before Alphonse gently took her wrist. He held his hand underneath the pan, allowing it to heat up without leaving ash to be cleaned.

Elsa smiled. "You're quite the timesaver, Mr. Alphonse," she jested. Elsa retrieved the milk Alphonse had removed earlier and poured it into the pan, measuring with practiced ease as the milk simmered. After a few moments, she removed a pair of mugs from a cabinet and poured the milk into them, mixing in the cocoa and sugar from the pouch that would result in the heaven that was hot cocoa. She handed Alphonse a mug and sipped, savoring the taste.

Alphonse watched in quiet fascination as Elsa sipped her cocoa, the tension seeming to drain away from her. The mage breathed in the vapors, his enhanced sense of smell (a holdover from shapeshifting into a wolf) allowing him to sense the sweetness of the sugar and the bitterness of the cocoa. He lifted his mug and sipped, and had to consciously keep himself from sighing. The drink was warm and relaxing, like a nap in front of a fire on a winter's night. It brought back long-buried memories, but for once they weren't painful. Simply comforting.

Elsa picked up on Alphonse's mood and grinned slyly. "Told you so," she said. Alphonse grinned in return, a latent impulse rising.

"You did. I had no idea your magic extended past ice and to potions." Elsa tensed at his words, her anxiety picking back up. How had he known?!

"How did you know about that?" she asked, grateful that her voice remained level. Alphonse smiled reassuringly.

"I can … sense it inside you," he explained. "And even if I couldn't, rumor has spread quite far of the great and beautiful Snow Queen of Arendelle."

Elsa relaxed at his words, gently scolding herself for getting worked up so quickly. Years of repression and secrecy were tough habits to break, though. At least she hadn't lost control and found frost spreading everyw- wait, did he just say _beautiful_?!

Alphonse, despite his calm facade, raged at himself. "Beautiful" Snow Queen?! What could have possessed him to say that?! Not that she wasn't beautiful - she had looks that would put any other woman to shame - but she probably heard it all the time. Hearing it from a near-total stranger would seem only strange. Alphonse sipped deeply from his mug, hoping it would hide his rising blush.

The pair finished their cocoa in awkward silence and placed the mugs in the sink. Hoping to salvage what good could remain from the situation, and that earlier instinct having deserted him, Alphonse said the first thing that came to mind. "Shall I escort you to your room, milady?" he asked, wincing inside at the stupid-sounding request.

Elsa's eyes widened at the question. But looking into those soulful, mismatched eyes she felt herself answering before she could think. "I would be honored, kind sir," she said, a smile gracing her features.

Unlike the uncomfortable silence from before, the walk back to the royal wing was warm, companionable. When they arrived back at the room, after a few close-calls with the palace guards, Alphonse gave an exaggerated bow.

"My lady's room," he said, voice heavy with mock-formality. Elsa quietly laughed at the mage's antics, so different from the taciturn formality he had introduced himself with.

"Why thank you, good sir," she said, curtsying with as much jest as he. Both young adults gently laughed, sure to keep quite for the princess and prince-consort in the room down the hall. Alphonse looked up, catching elsa's gaze with his own.

"Good night, Elsa," he said quietly, with genuine warmth.

"Good night, Alphonse," Elsa replied, smiling as red bloomed across her cheeks. The queen opened the door to her room and paused, watching as Alphonse entered his own before closing it.

Unbeknownst to each other, both leaned against the doors of their rooms and slid down, thoughts whirring, analyzing every word and gesture over the last half hour. With a frightening yet thrilling mix of confusion and warmth, both had the same thought.

What is happening?

* * *

That night, after having dinner with her husband and sister (Alphonse had politely declined their offer of company), Anna lay snuggled against Kristoff and breathing evenly. If she were coherent, she would have realized that she was at the cusp of sleep, balancing the razor's edge between the waking and dreaming worlds. What she couldn't have known, was that this time was the most opportune for … journey. Into various other realms.

 _Anna knew she was dreaming (or something fairly close) as she looked up at the grey horse before her, easily a head taller than her. It was huge, but that was far from the most bizarre thing about it. The horse pawed at the ground with two feet … its other_ six feet _perfectly still. The horse turned to regard her for a few moments and jerked its head, as if inviting her to mount. Before Anna knew it, she was mounted and the horse was moving._

 _Anna shrieked in both fear and exhilaration as the eight-legged horse (why did that phrase sound familiar?) swept through the tall grass underfoot, the landscape shrouded in silvery mist. The mist became thicker, denser, almost like a curtain of a waterfall. On a whim, Anna looked up, only to be met with the unbelievably huge leaves of an ash tree, the leaf-tips dripping with dewdrops bigger than her head that evaporated and fed the mist around her._

 _After what felt like an eternity or two, the horse stopped in its tracks and the atmosphere turned red, like death. Armies appeared around her, born of the mist and fighting … and army of … something not human. That was all she could call them. The things resembled humans, tall strongly-built humans with skin in shades ranging from pale white to stone grey to burning orange. They wielded weapons of stone and wood and bone as they plowed through swarms of men, men surronded by some sort of grey haze. Without knowing how, she knew that the haze was death. Imminent death, death long received._

 _As she watched, clutching the reins of the horse that had brought her here, a clutch of armsmen charged toward her and melted through her, as if she were a ghost. She turned to see them engage another group of those not-humans, the groups cancelling each other out as they all killed each other. The ground began to shake, cracks forming and water rising from the cracks. Anna knew she should be afraid, but she wasn't. It was like watching a memory that had once frightened her before time dulled the fear into nothing._

 _A piercing howl echoed across the battlefield and anna turned to see something that actually brought a rise of dread in her gut. A monstrous orange-furred wolf - paws like the castle, body like a mountain, unending maw held open by a massive sword - ran across the battlefield, scooping up warriors of both sides in a mad dash. A gouge followed it from its mouth that brushed the ground, opening like a canyon. The wolf howled again in pain, fury, bloodlust and snapped the sword holding its jaws open and dove for a single warrior._

 _Anna yelped as the horse yanked her onto its back and bolted with a shrill cry of panic. It ran, somehow, even faster than before and the battlefield faded into silvery mist again, the landscape blurring by. After what seemed like an instant, the horse faded away and Anna tumbled into the grass. She looked up to find a woman looking down at her. It was like looking in a warped mirror. The woman looked like her … but, at the same time … not like her. Like a part of her that was no longer the whole. The woman smiled and faded away …_

Anna bolted up, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. What had just happened?! Anna scrambled at the fragments of the dream as it faded away like curls of fog. The details faded, but the big parts remained as if seared into her brain.

Anna settled back onto the mattress, sleep returning at a rate that almost scared her. Whatever that was, she decided, she'd discuss it with Elsa tomorrow.

 **New chapter. Review on what you think.**


	9. The Serpent's Seige

**Chapter Eight: The Serpent's Siege**

Anna lunged at Kal, her swordplay instructor, striking with power that belied her lithe frame. Her instructor grunted under the force of her blows and counterattacked, forcing the princess back. But Anna remained undeterred and fought on.

After the Eternal Winter, in addition to helping Elsa reorganize the Castle Guards into a more effective force, Anna had resolved to improve herself as well. She had requested that the guards teach her swordsmanship. Anna had taken to it like a fish to water, her boundless energy and surprising strength making her an ideal student. Besides, it had always been easier for Anna to master physical skills, ones she could learn by doing.

After weathering a series of strikes, Anna twisted her sword blade around her instructor's and forced his blade down and away, disarming him. With a quick wrist movement, her swordpoint was at his throat and he was at her mercy. Anna panted lightly, a thin film of sweat coating her brow and a huge smile spread across her face. Kal grinned and held up his hands, a sign of surrender.

"Well done, Your Highness. As always." He rubbed his shoulder, one that had taken a bad hit in the draugr invasion. She had asked about it before they began, but he had shrugged it off and claimed it was minor. "I have to say, Princess, I do believe you are my best student." He grinned wider, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, and turned away. "I believe that is enough for today. Good day, Princess."

Anna smiled at Kal's back and wished him well, but the smile faded quickly as her thoughts returned to her dream the previous night. The rush of adrenaline and frenzy of fighting had given her a reprieve, but without that those thoughts and questions returned full-force. Anna sighed in discontent. She wasn't one to simply brood on things - that was Elsa's thing - she was one to act, to seek answers. And as far as she knew, there was only one place she could get answers.

"You are really good, Princess." Anna whirled around to find the focus of her thoughts at the edge of the training yard, leaning on his staff. Alphonse had his hood down, allowing his hair to fall to his shoulders, and a wry grin on his face. Somehow that expression seemed familiar … then she realized she had seen the same expression on Elsa when she came to watch her learn.

"You should see me on a good day," Anna replied, "I can take on two of these guys and still win." Alphonse lifted an eyebrow and doffed his cloak and staff before taking up a wooden practice sword from one of the weapon racks. He circled around Anna with a mischievous glint in his eye, that grin unchanged.

"Let's see how you do against someone who-" he broke off and lunged, quick as lightning. Anna, caught by surprise, swung her own practice sword into place to block the strike. Alphonse disengaged and spun around to gain momentum and slashed again, but was once again blocked. Anna pushed and forced him away to get some room. Alphonse's grin was more muted, but still there. He was testing her out!

Anna smiled at the thought of a challenge and charged with a war cry.

* * *

Elsa hummed in thought as she read over the letter in her hands, a missive to King Frederic of Corona, her uncle-by-marriage. After Elsa had severed trade with Weselton, Frederic had been her life-line in trade as she gathered new trade partners. Not only that, but her cousin Rapunzel had become quite close with both Anna (not surprising given their shared energy and bubbly natures) and Elsa herself. As such, Elsa had felt that her uncle and aunt, as well as her cousin, should be informed of the strange happenings in Arendelle of late.

As Elsa signed her name and placed her seal on the envelope, she picked up on a familiar battle cry coming from outside. Anna? Elsa placed the letter down and strode to her balcony, opening the doors to look out. Anna rarely gave that shout when training, focusing instead on learning from her teachers. Why was she-?

Elsa stumbled back and bit down a shriek as a huge shape flew up past the balcony, circling around to dart back. It looked like a massive black eagle and it shot down and toward Anna with a piercing cry. "Hey, no fair!" Anna shouted, though a laugh made the claim seem less viable. The eagle rippled into Alphonse, who rolled across the ground and onto his feet, wooden sword at the ready.

"'Fair' is a meaningless word in a fight, Princess," Alphonse shouted back, "someone who wants you dead will never fight fair. And neither should you!" He darted forward and struck at Anna, who ducked with a graceful spin and swung at his legs. Alphonse hopped backward to avoid and Anna rushed him with a flurry of attacks.

Elsa watched with bated breath as the two combatants, her sister and their guest, continued to spar. Anna was good, Elsa might even say great, but Alphonse was clearly more experienced. Elsa briefly wondered where he had learned swordsmanship. After several minutes and a few close-calls, Alphonse blocked a slash and grabbed Anna's wrist before flinging her over his back and onto hers. Anna laughed as he helped her up.

Elsa narrowed her eyes in thought, curiosity burning. Who was this man? she wondered. Her thoughts were interrupted by muffled shouting and the door to her study flying open, a haggard-looking guardsman bursting in.

"Apologies for the interruption, Your Majesty," he said frantically, "but there is something you need to hear."

* * *

Elsa sat on her throne, straight-backed and regal, looking upon a single man flanked by two guardsmen. The young man, barely more than a child, looked like a sailor, judging by his tar-stained clothes and sunburnt face and arms. The boy seemed scared half-to-death, feet tapping and hands wringing the cap in his hands to a shapeless mass of cloth.

"State your name for the record," Elsa's chief clerk stated, quill scratching over a long scroll. The man flinched and nodded.

"M'name's Buri Jorson, milady," he said in a rough voice, his voice seeming strained from shouting. "I was part a'da crew a'da Whitecrest, a shippin' vessel from here ta Corona." Elsa remembered that the ship was due in several days past and nodded for him to continue. "We was makin' good time, milady, 'fore …" The man swallowed thickly, his eyes taking on a panicked cast. "'Til Death a'came for us …" The man trembled and gave a cough that sounded almost like a sob. "The Long Death, it was. And it's a'comin'!" Jorson began to panic, to hyperventilate.

Elsa stood and descended the steps to stand before the frightened man. "Mister Jorson, whatever you say, you will be believed. What happened to your crew?"

Jorson nodded and sighed before continuing. "The Long Death, Your Majesty. The Great Serpent of legend that eats its own tail." he lifted his hands to try and explain. "Twas just a calm wind, few days from port."

* * *

Buri hummed a quiet sea song as he scrubbed the deck, the sun warming his back as the wind cooled it off. He looked up at the sound of heavy footfalls on the planks to find another sailor looking over the water. Whale was his name, the only name he responded to, named for his massive size and grey skin. He was old for a sailor, but tough as nails and with more know-how than the captain himself.

Buri paused in his work and stood, taking a spot beside Whale. The massive old sailor was looking over the water, eyes darting around as if looking for something in particular on the flat horizon. That in itself was odd. Whale was never one to be distracted and always drilled focus into the young sailors that crossed his path, buri included. But the man also had impeccable instincts.

"Something wrong, Whale?" Buri asked. Whale stayed silent, gazing over the waves for a few more moments.

"Don't know, boy. Just not sure." Buri stared at the man for a few more moments before shrugging and turning back to his scrub brush. Not two steps in, the deck lurched forward, sending Buri tumbling. He grimaced at a bruised hip and looked back. Whale had caught himself by grabbing at a rope, staring again. The crew began to mutter, not quietly at all, in fear. The ship had gone from a good speed to a sudden stop.

Buri winced at the sound of creaking wood, followed by shattering planks. The ship lurched and the crew began to shout or pray. Buri stumbled to Whale's side and started at the man's coloring: he was white as a bone. "Tis here," he whispered. "Long Death."

Before Buri could ask, the water before them exploded, a massive shape rising from the depths. Buri screamed in fear as the thing looked down and lunged-

* * *

Buri was trembling as he continued. "The thing attacked, had wrapped 'round the ship. Was crushin' the ship like an egg, slow and steady. It began snatchin' up men like a big cat with mice, flingin' 'em up and snatchin' 'em outta da air. Whale tackled me and held me down, told me ta stay quiet. Thing must'a gotten bored, 'cas da ship fell 'part and Whale n' I wid it. Whale pushed me up onto a plank and told me what he knew, like he always knew stuffs.

"He said to me, 'Long Death, is a'gunnin' fer home. Wants da queen real bad, hate in its eyes fer da queen. Warn da queen, boy, warn'er!' Then he cried out, ain't never heard Whale cry out like that, like a cat boiling in da stew pot, and he drifted of while the water itself turned green n'steamin'."

The young man looked Elsa right in the eye. "I floated two days, milady. Da Long Death'll be here right soon! It wants ye, milady, wants ye bad!" The boy started panicking again and lurched away. The guards caught him and held him still, trying to calm the boy down. "Run, milady!" he shouted, "Run away!" And with that the guards gently took him away.

Elsa sat back on her throne, eyes wide. The boy had been scared out of his wits, and a part of her wanted to believe that that was just it. He was frightened and had found a way to cope by conjuring up some sea monster. But the larger part of her believed him, instincts she didn't know she had screaming at her that he was completely right. A hand on her shoulder brought the queen from her trance.

Anna looked down on her with wide eyes, fear and courage warring it out behind those blue irises so like her own. "Do you think it's true?" she asked. Elsa thought it over before a voice cut through the audience chamber.

"It's true," Alphonse said, and lifted a string of polished stones. "If he had been lying, in any way, these would have been glowing. He's telling the truth." Alphonse approached the royals, his expression grim. So unlike the vibrant warrior from before or the kind soul from last night. Now, he was … the ter _Grimnir_ came to mind.

"Maybe we should start a lookout?" Anna suggested. Alphonse nodded before the castlee seemed to shake. Like an arrow from a bow, Alphonse darted for the door, followed closely by the queen and princess. They ran out to look at the fjord, the waters still as usual.

"What-?" Anna was interrupted by an explosion of water, just as the sailor had described. The water fell to reveal what they were up against.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" Alphonse shouted.

The creature before them was a massive serpent, dull green and red stripes snaking along its massive form, spines curling from the back of its head. The head itself had to be as large as the greatest ship in Arendelle's harbour, it's body just as thick. The monster's eyes were blazing red, like blood set on fire. The monster opened wide and let loose a deafening high-pitched roar, interspersed with the hissing of a thousand snakes. And with the roar came a noxious-looking green fog. The thing stopped roaring and its tongue flickered out to taste the air. It turned toward the castle, and Elsa felt a chill run down her spine. She knew, without knowing how, that it was looking at her.

Elsa instinctively reached for her the power within her, delving into it and channeling the wave of icy magic into the fjord. The surface froze solid, trapping the beast, and spikes shot out from the ice's surface, further restricting its movement. The serpent hissed again in vexation before twisting its body, shattering Elsa's work like glass. Undeterred, Elsa redoubled her efforts. There was no way she would let this thing attack her people.

"Al? What is that thing?" Anna asked, face pale. Alphonse glanced at her in response to calling him "Al", then refocused on the situation.

"That is no ordinary sea serpent. It's a Kjempeslange. A Great Serpent. There were only four spawned, hatched from the eggs within Jormungandr during Ragnarok. They're not as big, thankfully, but still far bigger than any other sea serpent." Alphonse took a deep breath, readying himself for the coming fight. He had fought dozens of sea serpents before, and each had been a tough battle. This was going to be difficult.

Alphonse removed his horse figurine from his satchel and tossed it up into the air. The figurine shattered, releasing his eight-legged steed that landed solidly, cracking the stones beneath its feet. The horse nickered a greeting and Alphonse nodded. "Askvader," he greeted, using the name he had chosen for the horse, an old word meaning "thunderstorm". He mounted and flicked the reins, Askvader leaping forward and off the castle wall.

Askvader landed solidly and bolted forward and over the water. The great thing about a supernatural horse - it has unique abilities. In addition to impossible speed and stamina, Askvader could run up sheer cliffs, across water, and even across open air for short bursts. Alphonse gripped his staff and prepared to use magic as Askvader approached the Serpent. Askvader didn't even pause when he started running _up_ , across the monster's belly.

Alphonse reached into his mind for the runes buried deep within, the essences of magic seared into his soul. He focused on one in particular, the rune for fire, heat, and light. Easily his favorite. Alphonse conjured a handful of blue flames and hurled them at the Kjempeslange to explode against the side of its head. The beast roared in irritation and turned to face where he had just been with a lightning-fast bite.

During the creature's cry, Alphonse leapt from Askvader and Shifted into an eagle, wheeling away from the serpent as it struck at nothing. The serpent roared at him and struck again, Alphonse barely able to dodge its lunging bites. Alphonse flew toward his horse, now back on the water, and Shifted back to land in the saddle with a grunt. He grabbed the reins and wheeled Askvader around to charge again.

What he really needed was a plan. Any plan to take down this monstrosity. But his greater duty was to people, to innocents in Arendelle and its castle. He had to keep this thing distracted; prevent it from attacking the town.

* * *

Elsa watched in horror and fascination as Alphonse fought the Serpent, zipping along the water and across the serpent's body on that obviously-unnatural horse. Elsa had given the order to evacuate the city as soon as possible, to lead the people into the mountains. Elsa had developed plans to do so in case of invasion should it ever be necessary. Now definitely counted.

Anna whooped as another ball of light exploded against the Serpent's head. Anna may think Alphonse was winning, but Elsa saw differently. The mage's attacks were barely doing anything, like bee stings on a bear. And worse, the creature's thrashing was raising waves that crashed against the wharf, wrecking ships and dousing the town with water, even with the icy barricades Elsa had wrought with her powers.

Watching how this thing so casually assaulted her home, Elsa felt something she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge: anger. Rage, fury, ire, whatever you called it it burned within her gut just as it had when the draugr attacked. And just as they did then, Elsa's powers seemed to act on their own accord, swirling from her fingers in an almost-frantic pattern. Acting on instinct, Elsa flicked her wrist and let them out.

Anna yelped and hopped back as frost and chunks of ice swirled in a thick cloud beside her sister, coalescing into a great shape. It reminded her of when Elsa had created Marshmallow. The ice settled into the shape of a great bird of prey formed from ice. The bird, a great hawk, turned its glowing blue eyes to look at her. The bird trilled and nodded, turning toward its maker, in essence its mother. Elsa's dress changed again into the war-dress she had made during the draugr attack and she mounted the hawk, freezing her feet to stay on.

Elsa turned to look at Anna, cold fury in her eyes. "Anna, help the guardsmen evacuate the city," she said firmly.

"No, Elsa, I want to help!" Anna shouted.

"You can, Anna," Elsa responded. "But what is a sword going to do to that thing?" Anna looked at the battle still raging in the fjord. Now that she mentioned it, a sword did seem pretty small compared to that massive snake. "Anna, help the people get further inland. Then I'll know they're safe. That you are safe." Elsa looked at Anna with wide eyes, silently pleading for her to listen.

Anna hesitated and sighed, then nodded her head. Elsa nodded and the hawk shot up from the wall, a piercing shriek echoing in its wake. Anna rubbed her eyes and watched for a moment before hurrying toward the bridge. Time to do my job, she thought.

* * *

Alphonse jerked the reins up, taking Askvader to the air as the Kjempeslange writhed, its massive coils disturbing the waters and raising massive waves. Waves that would crush them like nothing. Alphonse had to give the Serpent credit, it was smarter than it looked. Then again, given its grandfather, that shouldn't be so surprising.

It was time to change tactics.

Alphonse leapt from his mount's back and Shifted, flying above the Serpent and Shifting back. He fell toward the creature and reached within, for the runes of strength and force. Magic surged within him and he channeled its power into his left arm. He landed on the Serpent's snout and struck with all of his enhanced might, sending a shockwave of shattering force through the creature's head.

The recoil sent Alphonse flying away, but he saw a number of teeth fly from the thing's mouth. Alphonse smiled before a wave of fatigue crashed over him, his vision flickering. Perhaps using two runes at once had been a mistake. Within the confines of the effects of magic, Alphonse felt something catch him. Askvader? Wait, why was the horse so … cold?

Alphonse groaned and looked up, finding himself held in the talons of a massive, glittering white hawk. Sweet mercy, this hawk was made of ice! That could only mean … Elsa?! Alphonse felt fear rise in his chest, as well as something else. A desire to protect the queen. He focused on the Serpent, writhing and snapping at a flock of identical ice hawks pestering it. Alphonse glanced at its eyes, those horrifying blazing red eyes, and an idea clicked in his head.

* * *

Elsa summoned more ice hawks as the Serpent shattered most of her flock, others melting within its putrid green breath. Poison, it had to be. The telling of Ragnarok came to mind, and she remembered the death of Thor, poisoned by the World Serpent even as he won. Probably best not to get in range of that poison.

"Elsa! Pull me up! I have a plan!" elsa flicked her head to the side, surprised that Alphonse was conscious. She had seen him strike the Serpent, the force of his blow nearly knocking its head to the water's surface, and his limp form as he fell toward death. She had expected him to need quite some time to recover, but apparently he was more enduring than she realized. Elsa focused and shifted her mount's form, drawing Alphonse through it and up next to her. When he emerged, the mage shivered and seemed a touch perturbed.

"That was different," he remarked absently. Elsa snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Alphonse," she reminded, "your plan?" That seemed to snap him back to reality. He grabbed her from behind and held her close, pointing at the Serpent still plagued by her ice hawks.

"Use your magic. Focus on its eyes and freeze them." Elsa gasped at the thought, revulsion at such cruelty rising in her chest. But upon focusing on the serpent, she shook it away. Not only was this thing a threat to her people, it was a monster, unnatural and destructive. How much more carnage would it cause in its life? Elsa nodded and directed her hawk to dive in close.

The queen held her breath as they approached the Kjempeslange, unwilling to even entertain the notion of breathing in that cloud of poison. She tapped into her magic and unleashed it in a blistering stream, straight at the Serpent's right eye. The monster thrashed and howled in pain as frost coated the right side of its face.

Before Elsa wheeled her hawk away, she felt Alphonse stiffen behind her and grunt. A spear of light shot from his outstretched hand and struck the frozen orb, shattering it into useless pieces. The Serpent shook its head and tasted the air, its remaining hate-filled eye locking on them. It roared at them, sending it poisonous breath in their direction. Elsa grunted as she summoned icy winds to blow the green mist away and forced her power toward the Serpent's last eye. Another spear of light ripped it to shreds, drawing a fearsome cry from their enemy.

With a final shout, the monster submerged, its shadow racing for through the fjord to the open ocean. Elsa laughed in triumph before she felt Alphonse collapse against her. The Snow Queen grunted at his weight and called one of her few remaining ice hawks to carry him.

Elsa called her flock to head for the mountains, resisting her mounting fatigue. The threat was gone, at least for now, and her people could return home.

 **Anna will get her chance to shine soon enough. How was the fight? What is in store for our favorite royal sisters? Read, review, and find out!**


	10. Emergence of the Past

**Chapter Nine: Emergence of the Past**

Kristoff was smiling as he passed through the mists of the Valley of Living Rock. He had spent the entire day (aside from the hours before and after midday, obviously) with his family, only leaving a few hours before dusk. Anna had insisted that he spend the day with them, even though she had seemed nervous when doing so. He was glad he did, but anxious to get back to his wife and see what was wrong.

As Kristoff harnessed Sven to his sled, he heard the unmistakable sound of one of the trolls rolling toward him. That in itself was odd, the trolls almost never approached the confines of the Valley. An even bigger surprise was the troll that unravelled. Grand Pabbie? Knowing something was wrong, Kristoff knelt to address his foster-grandfather.

"Kristoff, something has happened in Arendelle," he said ominously. Kristoff felt his blood turn to ice and moved to stand, ready to unlatch Sven and ride back as fast as possible. At least he would have had Pabbie not kept ahold of his shirt, keeping him down with surprising strength.

"The conflict is resolved," the shaman continued, "and Anna is fine. There is something far more pressing for you right now." Kristoff was almost burning with confusion, and a rare impatience. How could pabbie be so calm?!

Pabbie placed his palm on Kristoff's forehead, eyes closed, and hummed. Kristoff flinched and would have toppled over had pabbie not been holding him upright. Images flashed through his mind from the shaman's touch, a … pathway? The images ended in the likeness of a cave hidden deep within the mountain passes, a ways off the trail down the mountain.

Kristoff shook away the wave of dizziness that welled up and regarded Pabbie. The troll shaman seemed deadly serious, a look that would make armies of madmen pause in their tracks. "Find that cave, Kristoff. Inside is someone who holds a key to the fate of Arendelle. Without it, all might very well be lost."

Pabbie's gaze softened into warmth and he patted Kristoff's cheek. "I will see you soon, I'm sure." With that, the troll chief rolled away, back into the Valley, leaving Kristoff a little stunned.

The ice harvester stood and finished harnessing Sven. As he loaded up, he looked up, further into the mountain's passes. A kind of mental itch, likely Pabbie's way of guiding him, urged him up. Kristoff sighed heavily and urged Sven on.

 _Don't worry, Anna,_ he thought, _I'll be home soon_.

* * *

It was late into the night when Elsa came to the infirmary to check on Alphonse, the man who had once again saved her people. The mage's chest gently rose and fell as Gerda lightly dabbed his forehead with a wet cloth. Elsa remained quiet as she watched, concern welling inside her.

As soon as her people had finished returning from the mountains, Elsa had ordered Alphonse brought to the castle doctor. Doctor Stein had examined him and come to the conclusion that he was simply exhausted, though he also had a moderate fever.

After the diagnosis, Elsa had been swept up in the nightmare of consolidating the damage from the Kjempeslange's rampage, the state of her people, and the one-thousand-and-one other facets of the temporary relocation that needed her attention. It was only now, hours past nightfall, that she had stopped working, with a pile of paperwork to be seen in the morning, and had taken the time to check up on him.

Elsa noticed the sound of soft footfalls approaching and a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "Couldn't sleep, Anna?" the queen asked as her sister took a place at her side.

"Apparently I'm not the only one," Anna replied, though her teasing was laced with concern. Concern over Elsa's health, no doubt. Elsa regarded her sister seriously and smiled in reassurance, though it felt like a token gesture even to her. "Elsa," Anna asked, her tone of voice unusually serious, "can I talk to you about something?"

Elsa raised an eyebrow at the somber request. "Of course, Anna, anything," she answered sincerely. Anna nodded and led the way to Elsa's room to settle. Tea and a small plate of fruit and bread sat, freshly delivered. Elsa thanked heaven not for the first time, that the castle staff were so attentive. Anna sat and twiddled her thumbs, seemingly less-than-eager to speak.

"Anna?" Elsa prompted. Anna grimaced, as if wrestling with herself, and relaxed. She began to speak, describing a dream she had had the night before. A dream of war and death and cataclysm. Of a spectral horse and men fighting not-men. A dream that seemed like the end of the world. The words seemed to spill out of the princess, as if she had been considering what to say for hours and it all just came rushing out. Then again, perhaps that was exactly what was happening.

Anna didn't stop for a good half-hour. Really, that was short for her, but the sheer … intensity of her words left Anna breathless. Panting lightly, Anna looked at Elsa with pleading eyes, almost begging to be believed. Elsa pursed her lips and thought over everything she had gotten from Anna's description. It almost sounded like …

Elsa's eyes widened as bits and pieces of information slotted together in her mind, a massive puzzle she had had no idea she was even working to solve. Their father's book, the Serpent, draugr, Alphonse - the picture of Odin came to mind - Anna's dream, it all made some bizarre form of sense.

"Anna," Elsa asked carefully, "do you remember those stories Papa told us as children? The very old ones?" Anna's eyebrows shot up at the unexpected question.

"Yeah, about the Aesir and the giants and the monsters and the end of the world? They always kinda freaked me out, you know? Like they were talking about a completely different world, where different rules stuck. Though I always-" Anna stopped in her tracks as she remembered that last bit. The End of the World - what did they call it? Rag- Ragnar -Ragnarok! That was it! Words her father had told her from the stories began to fit together - into an image that eerily resembled her dream.

"You don't think that dream was … more, do you?" Anna whispered. Elsa considered her answer for a moment. She replayed what Alphonse had said about the Kjempeslange before he attacked it, as if Ragnarok had already happened.

"I think," she said slowly, "that something is happening around us. Something we can't fully understand without someone who can explain it." Elsa glanced at the door. Alphonse could explain it, that was clear. When he woke up, perhaps she could get him to explain what had happened.

* * *

As the sisters discussed Anna's dream, Gerda was finishing attending to the sleeping Alphonse. She gathered her things, just a little worried at how little he had responded. The boy's fever had gone away, but he was almost totally still, as if his body were conserving what little energy it had until more could be generated.

The matron's musings were broken by an unusual sound coming from the window, like a high tapping noise. Curiosity suddenly burning, though she wasn't sure why, Gerda opened the window to see what was making that noise. As soon as the windows were open, two black blurs flew into the room and settled on her charge. The two ravens croaked at each other and settled into his chest, causing the young man to shift restlessly.

"Shoo, shoo, you filthy things!" Gerda scolded quietly, flicking her hands to ward them off. The birds turned to regard her in one motion, one that sent a chill down the old woman's spine.

"I'll have you know we are actually quite clean," one of the birds said in a smooth and cultured voice. Gerda gasped, covering her mouth in shock. The other bird fluttered toward her to settle on the foot of the bed.

"Get out, woman, before we peck your eyes out," it said harshly. Gerda scrambled for her things and left. Hugin croaked in a quick laugh before Munin rejoined him on Alphonse's chest. They bowed their heads as they focused on the task at hand. Their student had started to go soft, his head filled with _sentiment_ and _caring_. He was losing his edge, and quickly too. They had to act even more quickly to salvage what they could.

* * *

 _Alphonse ran blindly through the dark, twisted woods that his dreamscape had been forcibly corrupted into. He wasn't sure what he was running from, he just knew it had to be escaped. A tiny flicker of familiarity sparked along his consciousness, but his blind mortal fear brushed it away. In the sense that a candle flame would be "brushed away" by a hurricane._

 _Alphonse emerged from the woods, face and arms covered with scratches from the branches and vines, only to halt in his tracks at the edge of a steep, jagged cliff. Clouds of steam rose from the volcanic vents far below. As he stopped, that flicker of deja vu returned, just a touch stronger. Fear battered at it, shrunk it, but didn't snuff it out._

 _Alphonse turned at the sound of massive footfalls, steps that made the ground shake. Out of the dark woods came something of nightmares: a human-like figure easily twenty feet tall, broad as it was tall, face covered with horrific scars and a club fashioned from a tree in its hands. The thing leered at him with teeth sharpened to points and lifted it club to smite him._

 _Even as fear pulsed through him and turned his blood to ice, Alphonse noticed a hint of movement in the trees. Two birds sat on a branch, watching with cold humor. That spark of memory grew into a flame of remembrance; he remembered that those two had done this before. When they were "less than pleased" with him._

 _Alphonse felt anger rise within him, burning anger that fought against the cold fear. He focused that rage, at least most of it, and began to seize back his dream._

" _Get out of my head!" he shouted._

* * *

Elsa and Anna, summoned by a nearly-frantic Gerda, rushed into Alphonse's room to find him looking far worse than before. He was panting and sweating and thrashing, growls emanating from his throat. Two ravens were perched on his chest and clawing to keep ahold, drawing blood in their struggle. Two ravens - just as Kristoff had told Anna.

Impulsive as ever, Anna lunged and grabbed one of the birds. The princess gasped as she felt something invade her mind, an alien presence that was far from human. The raven seemed to grow in her hands until it filled the room, eyes burning with cold indignation as shadows invaded the room. Fear gripped the princess, cold stealing the heat from her body.

Anna gasped as she felt something else rise inside, warmth that fought off the fear. Light filled the room and power burned within her. The raven seemed to shrink again and croaked with surprise, indignation turning to curiosity. That strange feeling continued to grow until Anna felt she might set on fire.

Something shook Anna, knocking her out of her trance. The raven was gone and Elsa was shaking her. Nausea welled up and Anna darted for a pitcher. Nothing came up, but it was a close thing. Anna swallowed thickly, tasting bile at the back of her tongue. She took a shaky breath and turned to face her sister.

"What just happened?" she asked uncertainly. Elsa didn't speak. She just stared in awe and perhaps … a little bit of fear? Anna looked down to find her skin faintly glowing with a soft light, even her dress. Anna felt someone else's eyes on her and turned to find Alphonse awake, and staring at her as well.

Alphonse, after a half-second of stunned staring, stood and clumsily donned a nearby robe, covering his right eye as he did so. He had to look at Anna, to truly See what only _he_ could See. Surrounding the princess, along with the soft light, was a hazy over-image, like a second skin made of mist. Imposed over her, Alphonse saw a woman who looked like Anna, and yet nothing like her.

This woman had golden-blonde hair that fell past her shoulders in immaculate waves, complementing her grass-green eyes and creamy skin. Her pale gold-and-green dress hung off her shoulders and was somehow both cut loose and accentuated her curvaceous figure. But it was the glint in her eyes that was wrong. Like Anna, this woman's eyes held that glimmer of mischief and the shine of unbeatable drive, but something else, too - a ferocious desire that would consume any lesser man like a blazing fire to dry wood. Alphonse knew this woman, though not personally. He knew who she was and had vague memories, like a long-forgotten dream.

This was Freya. And that simple revelation paved the way for a deeper, more frightening one.

As Alphonse stared at Anna, who had shaken off the effects of the whatever-had-just-happened, both sisters began to grow worried. "Alphonse, what's wrong?" Elsa asked, picking up on the mage's discomfort. He took a moment before blinking rapidly and somehow looking both of them in the eye.

"I don't know whether to congratulate you or pity you, Princess, but either way, now you must know." His gaze became a mix of sadness and despair. "You are like me, Anna. You are a Residuum, a reborn fragment of the Time Before Ragnarok. You are a piece of an old god."

Anna gaped at the mage and tried to laugh it off. Clearly he was joking, there's no way she clumsy, awkward, rambling, babbling Anna could be a god-goddess-whatever - that was ridiculous, like if she had fire magic like Elsa had ice magic, ridiculous, no way, it just couldn't-! And Alphonse wasn't smiling. He looked as serious as Elsa did when she addressed her council, maybe even more (if that were possible).

Alphonse sat and rubbed his temples, as if warding off a headache. There was no way Hugin and Munin had known this (then again, it was unwise to put anything past them. They may have had their suspicions) as they had seemed surprised when Anna had counteracted their invasion of his mind. Anna had somehow tapped into her former-self's power - without any form of training, sheerly by instinct.

"What does this mean?" Elsa asked, her voice forcibly calm and her face a mask of false calm. Alphonse considered his words carefully - this was something utterly unexpected and could be dangerous. Unless Anna had a guide. Alphonse stood again and looked Anna in the eye, mustering every ounce of force he could muster.

"Anna, now that your Remnant has been brushed, your path is set." he paused to take a breath - this next part would be hard. "Left unchecked, it could fracture your mind." Anna gasped and covered her mouth with horror, the seriousness in Alphonse's eyes driving home the danger.

"If you are willing, I will help you through the first stages," Alphonse offered.

Anna backed away, mind reeling. What could this mean? She didn't want to have mind broken, she liked her mind whole and hearty, thank you very much, she wasn't sure what could happened - what did Elsa think? - what was happening?!

Anna's internal rambling was cut short by Elsa's cold hand on her shoulder. Elsa's gaze was steady, a rock to help Anna center herself. Alphonse was some distance away, giving the sisters some privacy.

"What should I do, Elsa?" Anna asked, fear in her voice.

"I think," Elsa said slowly, "that we don't have much of a choice," she said solemnly. Anna gulped thickly, nervousness churning in her gut. A part of her felt she should be, like, happy?, that this was happening. She was the rebirth or whatever of a freaking god! Or something (she said her prayers - she was a good girl)! But she felt … hollow, like she hadn't fully grasped what she was.

Anna approached Alphonse, who had somehow changed clothes in the brief time they had been talking (magic, maybe?). Anna tried to speak, but for once the words wouldn't come out, so she just nodded a little shakily.

Alphonse gave that small grin, probably trying to put her at ease. "You'll be fine, Princess Anna. I promise you that." Alphonse swayed for a moment, eyelids fluttering, and anna placed a hand on his shoulder to try and steady him. He let out a breath and nodded his head, saying he was alright.

"We'll start your … education, tomorrow." The mage sat on his infirmary bed, suddenly looking as if he hadn't slept in days. He glanced at Elsa, who had approached to gaze had him with an unreadable expression.

"Get some rest, Alphonse" Elsa said, gaze softening and voice gentle. Alphonse nodded and collapsed, and Anna suppressed a smile. It was like a mother scolding her child. Or a wife her husba- whoa, where did that come from?! Anna filed that thought away to consider later, when she wasn't exhausted from crazy supernatural mumbo jumbo.

The princess followed her sister back to their rooms. As she settled in and changed into her sleep clothes, she wondered where Kristoff could be. With all of this happening, she wanted to know he was alright.

* * *

Kristoff stepped carefully by the light of his torch, wary of stray roots and vines that could trip him up. He had been moving through the mountains and forests in at night for years, but it never paid to be careful. Especially now that he had someone who cared about him, who would worry about him. Speaking of, he hoped it wouldn't take much longer. It was a few hours past dusk, and Anna would be worried by now.

After a few more minutes alone (Sven had refused to come closer, which meant he was probably pretty close) Kristoff found the entrance to the cave he had seen. It was more like a stone overhang, a twisted tree settled on the slab and hanging over like a gnarled, protective hand. Kristoff tried to forget that analogy as he approached.

The ice harvester ducked underneath the overhang to find a round cave, far too symmetrical to be natural. The grooves running down the sides looked … carved. Those thoughts came to a screeching halt as Kristoff noticed something else in the cave, or rather, two things.

Two men, _old_ men, lay on their backs. One was breathing hard, gasping, and the other was utterly still and ominously pale. Kristoff rushed to the breathing man's side and tried to get his attention, asking what he could do. The man's eyes, unfocused and wavering, seemed to brighten at the sight of him and he grabbed Kristoff's shirt, dragging him close and pressing something thin into his hands.

"Ta-take - take ch-es-st," he gulped, "save - home. Save - l-l-lo-ve …" The man went released Kristoff and went limp, as if his energy had run out. "Fa...ther," he gasped before his eyes closed and he breathed his last. Kristoff felt nausea rise and shoved it down. He closed the man's eyes and sat back, taking them in.

A line of runes was inked into the man's cheekbone that read a single word: _Magni_. Maybe his name? Kristoff moved to brush the hair out of the man's face, but he … dissolved into dust?! A quick glance showed the other man was gone too, just a pile of dust where he had been.

Kristoff sighed and stood up. Was this all Grand Pabbie had wanted him to see? Sure, at least these guys, or one of them had had someone to watch their final moments, but what was that about the "key to the fate of Arendelle"? Before he could really think about it, Kristoff noticed one last thing in the cave. An iron chest sat against the far wall, partly hidden. Right, "take chest".

Kristoff approached the chest and tried to lift it, groaning in surprise at its weight. Try as he might, he couldn't even budge the thing. After trying a few more times, Kristoff relaxed and panted against the chest. Only then did he remember that he was holding something, something passed from the dead man. _Magni_ , he thought. It always paid to respect the dead.

Kristoff lifted the object into the light to see a bracelet woven from strands of leather, strung with two iron rings. Kristoff raised an eyebrow in confusion before shrugging and putting the bracelet on. Kristoff took a breath and grasped the chest, and heaved with all he had.

Kristoff was a manly man, and confident with himself. Therefore, he would later admit that he had shrieked at a rather unmanly pitch when the chest came off the ground, weighing no more than a box of wood would. He hefted the chest a few times, unsure of what this meant, if anything. As he carried the chest back to the sled and loaded it up, the sled making an unhealthy creak as he placed it down, he resolved to ask Elsa about it tomorrow.

He urged Sven on, back toward the path down the mountain. And beyond that, Arendelle. And beyond that: Anna.

* * *

In the minutes approaching midnight, a young guard patrolled the shores of Arendelle Harbor, looking for anything odd. Especially after the _giant sea serpent_ had attacked, it was time to be vigilant, so the captain said. The guard sorely wished he could have been closer to watch his queen fight the monster. Stories were spreading from those brave or stupid enough to stay close of the queen's bravery and skill. And that of their guest, the hooded magician.

As the guard continued, he caught a strange sound. It sounded like … moaning? The guard followed the sound and suppressed a gasp. Someone was laying on the shore, half-submerged! The guard rushed over and pulled the person from the water before looking them over.

The guard felt heat rise in his cheeks as he saw the person, the woman, before him. She was lovely! Silky black hair, lank with sea water, framed a pale heart-shaped face with plush lips and long eyelashes. Eyelashes that fluttered as the woman began to stir. She looked up at him with wide green eyes and started before clutching at his arms.

"Wh-where ... ?" she seemed unable to speak properly. The guard tried to be reassuring as he explained that she was in Arendelle. That seemed to calm her down, if for a moment. The woman clutched at him and sobbed with fear, clearly traumatized. Coming to a decision, the guard lifted her up, holding her by the shoulders and knees. He whispered that he was taking her to the castle, where he was certain that the queen would take care of her.

As the young guard carried his charge to the castle, he couldn't have noticed the glint in the woman's eye. One that spoke of anything but fear.

 **What do you think?**

 **Special thanks to TeamArendelle and Miaka for reviews.**

 **You like what you see? More reviews keep me motivated. Live all y'all!**


	11. Lessons and Past Lives

**Chapter Ten: Lessons and Past Lives**

Anna bit her lips as she finished breakfast with Elsa and Kristoff. She hadn't told him about all the craziness the night before. What was she supposed to say? "Hey, honey? I saved Alphonse from a crazy magic bird last night, then I started glowing, and he told me I'm a reincarnated god. Crazy, right?" Nope, not the way it was gonna happen.

As Anna wracked her brain for a way to broach the topic, Alphonse wandered in dressed in a simple linen shirt and wool pants, as well as his sturdy boots. The dark circles under his eyes indicated he was still tired, but at least he was up and moving. As Elsa watched him approach, she bit back an order to go back to bed. Not only was he a guest, but he was teaching Anna today. And it didn't seem right to causally order around a man who had saved her people. Twice.

"So, Princess," Alphonse said, "are you ready to begin?" he asked calmly. Kristoff's eyebrows rose in confusion.

"Ready for what?" he asked. Alphonse's eye twitched and his cheeks colored as he realized neither Anna nor Elsa had told him about the night before. For the thousandth time, he cursed not having a normal childhood.

"Kristoff," Anna said sweetly, though her voice shook ever-so-slightly, "can you come with me? Something … weird happened last night that you should know about." Kristoff hesitated, wondering what the odds were that he would need to tell her the same. He nodded and followed her out, leaving Elsa and Alphonse alone.

Alphonse fidgeted for a moment before squeezing the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Queen Elsa," he said. Elsa's eyebrow rose in question. She gestured to a seat, which he gratefully took. After a few moments of silence, Elsa broached the topic.

"What are you sorry about, Alphonse?" she asked. The mage sighed and straightened before answering.

"That social break aside, I'm sorry Anna is in this situation at all. If those-" he bit back a curse "-birds hadn't gotten their hooks in, Anna could have lived a normal life, for a princess." He met her eyes, regret brimming like the shine over a lake. "I'm sorry," he said, almost pleading. Acting on instinct, Elsa placed her hand on Alphonse's, seeking to comfort him.

"It's not your fault, Alphonse," she said. "It's the way things work sometimes, and I'm glad you're here to do what you can." The queen smiled. "Besides, it's not like there's much normalcy to break here." Frost covered the tabletop, creeping up the silverware and dishes. "See?"

Alphonse smiled, relieved that the queen didn't blame him. He glanced down at their hands, still joined, and red blossomed in his cheeks. Elsa turned pink as well and slowly withdrew, though she felt an odd sense of loss.

"Hungry?" she asked, hoping to relieve the sudden awkwardness. Alphonse nodded and took some pancakes lathered with sweet cream and dusted with cocoa. After a moment of hesitation, he took a bite, humming in delight.

"Delicious," he said. Elsa smiled and continued with her own meal.

* * *

It took Anna nearly a half hour to fully relate what had happened the night before, including her dream from the night before that (it never hurt to be totally honest). After a stunned silence, Kristoff had been supportive of her decision and proud of her actions in defending Alphonse. After all, strange magical events had been the norm for him even before he met Anna. And this gave him a chance to forget about that metal chest he had hidden in one of the gardens.

As they approached Alphonse to begin the lesson, Kristoff spoke up. "Can I sit in for this?" he asked, just a tad worried. Pabbie had never been keen on him, nor even other troll children, being around when he did his work. He claimed it was "too dangerous should something go wrong". Not that things ever actually "went wrong" but the old troll was cautious with something as dangerous as magic, and Kristoff had seen dangerous magic up-close with Marshmallow and Anna's heart being frozen. But all that aside, he still wanted to be there for Anna in any way he could.

Alphonse's eyes narrowed as he thought it over, then gave the slightest nod. Anna fist-pumped; Kristoff could watch her learn _whatever-it-was_! (Should she be so excited? Ah, it didn't matter!)

"But," Alphonse stressed, "I need your word that you will not interfere. My methods may be … unorthodox, but interruption could lead to disaster. No matter what happens, you will watch, not intervene. Is that clear?" Kristoff had never been easily intimidated. To date, only Oaken the massive shopkeeper, Marshmallow the even-more-massive snow golem, and Elsa the Snow Queen herself had done so. But the steely force in Alphonse's voice, even coming from a lithe figure a head shorter than him drew the ice harvester up short. Before he knew it, he was nodding, and Alphonse relaxed. Alphonse gestured for them to follow, retrieving his staff and satchel before they left the castle.

As they left the town behind, Alphonse Shifted into his wolf form and led the way up the mountains at an easy trot, allowing the princess and her consort to keep up. Anna glanced at Kristoff, sensing they had a similar question. "Why the wolf thing?" Anna asked, blunt as ever. Alphonse chuckled, the sound oddly guttural coming from his now-canine throat.

"I enjoy walking in this form. It makes me feel … more connected to nature." They walked for a few more minutes before Alphonse stopped in a small clearing off the trail, a creek running through and the sun shining. He Shifted back to his normal shape and cleared his throat.

"Kristoff, please give us some room. You are free to listen, but I repeat: do not intervene." Kristoff nodded, though he was getting nervous with the repeated request. What could happen that it would make him want to intervene in something Alphonse clearly knew about? Kristoff sat on a nearby log and watched as Alphonse guided Anna to sit cross-legged before sitting in front of her in a mirrored stance.

"So, what do I have to do?" Anna asked cheerily.

"Are you familiar with the old stories of our people?" Alphonse asked. Anna nodded and began explaining what she knew, drawing on the countless times her father had told them to her. Alphonse stopped her after a good fifteen minutes, convinced she was far from ignorant.

"What do you know about Freya?" he asked. The question drew the princess up short. She expected him to ask about Thor or Odin or Loki, or whomever else. Freya was … not her specialty.

"Um, she's from the Vanir, right?" Alphonse nodded. "Uh, she was goddess of love, Thor dressed as her to get his hammer back, she was Frey's sister, she had an awesome necklace …" Anna trailed off, having run out of details that she could remember and painfully aware that she had given only the barebones of Freya's description. Alphonse cleared his throat to begin.

"Freya was more than a love goddess," he explained. "She was the ruler of Vanaheim, one of the two halls of the Fallen Dead. She was a goddess of war and death, who took half of the honored dead to her home, in preparation for Ragnarok." Anna smiled as she remembered that Odin got the other half, but kept it to herself. "She was the goddess of beauty, said to be the fairest among both Aesir and Vanir. And lastly, but far from least important, she was a goddess of magic. It was said that she brought magic to the Aesir; she was the standard for women who used magic."

Anna mulled all of this over, but couldn't see why he was telling her this. Alphonse was looking at her with his usual calm, the kind that was eerily like Elsa's had been before the Eternal Winter, as if he were waiting for her to connect the dots. "What's this have to do with-" Anna cut off as an impossible thought crossed her mind. Was he saying-?

"You are the Residuum of Freya," he confirmed. All of the emotions from last night came rushing back: incredulity, denial, wonder, and a dozen others she couldn't begin to identify. _She_ was supposed to be _Freya_?! Her - clumsy, awkward Anna? No way! There was no way!

"What's a Residuum?" Kristoff asked. Alphonse glanced at him, but there was no frustration at the interruption; only acceptance and a tinge of pride. "That is a subject for later, when Elsa can listen as well." Elsa had wanted to come, but had had her duties to attend to. "Suffice it to say, it is not pleasant to embrace, but Anna no longer has a choice." He turned back to address Anna. "Last night, you somehow made contact with Freya's essence inside you through sheer instinct and force of will, though I'm sure Hugin's … state of being, had something to do with it, too.

"Since you have made contact, no matter how small, Freya's essence is waking and will begin to meld with your psyche. If not guided, this process could have disastrous consequences." Anna was starting to get a little nervous. Part of her was glad he was being honest, but the other kind of wished he would sugarcoat it just a little.

"What kind of consequences?" she asked.

"How about Freya taking full control and pushing you into the back of your own mind?" Alphonse asked. "And that's the best-case scenario. There's also raving madness, blindness or deafness, crippling physical deformity, paralysis-" Anna cut him off, assuring him that she got the picture, chuckling nervously as she did. Alphonse gave her a look that almost screamed "No, you really don't" but let it pass.

"To properly align with Freya's essence without losing yourself, you will have to become like her; but on your own terms, not her's." Alphonse twisted his neck, popping it to loosen up. "The first step for you is to embrace one of her aspects." He smiled a bit. "You've started on war and battle fairly well, so now we need the next step: magic."

Anna's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm going to learn magic?" she asked. Alphonse nodded, but seemed almost sad for her.

"The first step for natural magic," he explained, "the power of the Vanir as opposed to the runic magic discovered by Odin, is to forge a link to your inner-fire to act as the fuel for the magic itself." Anna raised a hand, almost like a child in school. Alphonse nodded for her to ask; as he had told Kristoff, curiosity was a good thing.

"Did Elsa have to do that to get hers?" Anna asked.

"I doubt it," Alphonse answered. "Your sister's power is something different. Something very rare that even the Aesir and Vanir knew little about. Something about the moon aligning with planets every thousand years or so …" Alphonse quieted as he thought about what little he knew about Elsa's particular powers. After a few moments he shook it off and focused on Anna.

"Anyway, no, your own magic will be different from Elsa's. Similar, in a way, but very different." He held out his hands for Anna to take. "But first you have to connect with yourself to start the ball rolling." Anna took his hands. "You need to journey inside yourself and find that spark of power that rests inside you, both in yourself and from Freya. After that, learning will be simple once you hit your stride. After all, in a way, you have learned before. It's like riding a bike." Alphonse closed his eyes.

"Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and breath out through your nose." Anna did as she was told. "Good. Again." Anna did it again, and again, and again. When she started to speed up, Alphonse gently told her to slow down. When she wriggled to get more comfortable, which was often, she stopped, only to do it again a few moments later.

If Kristoff had been any less patient he would have left after the second hour. If he were any less secure or had any less faith in Anna, he would think Alphonse had only brought her out here to be alone. But he was none of those things and waited it out for the full fours hours before Alphonse sighed heavily and broke contact, rubbing his temples.

"This is getting us nowhere fast," the mage muttered, just a little frustrated.

"Really? I had no idea," Anna said, more than a little frustrated. "I thought you said this would be easy?" Anna asked, trying to forcibly push down her irritation.

"I never said 'easy', Anna. I said _simple_ , and once you hit your stride. Magic is never _easy_ , otherwise everyone would do it."

Alphonse stood and stretched the kinks from his back and joints, motioning for Anna to do the same. After loosening up, Alphonse considered his options. As he had suspected, Anna was a "doer", one who learned by action, not reading or methodical reasoning. In some ways, that would help her learn later, but for now it was a handicap. Alphonse bit back a curse as he something in his bag came to mind. A shortcut that could jumpstart the process. But it had its own share of not-insignificant dangers.

"Anna, there may be a shortcut." He waited out the shocked pause that followed and weathered Anna's brief rant about why he didn't say that before, until she calmed down. "But it is dangerous," he finished. Alphonse looked Anna in the eye, as dire as he could be. "In these things, there are always shortcuts. But trust me when I say they are not only dangerous, they are painful. 'Only through suffering may wisdom be achieved'. I only offer because of the dire circumstances, and not just your Residuum, but the sorcerer who has it in for you." _And Elsa_ , he thought, but didn't voice that. "Are you still willing to take the shortcut?"

Anna, looking into those sad, fierce, mismatched eyes, knew he was deadly serious. Emphasis on "deadly". But he was right in the sense that Hans (she was certain it was Hans, though she didn't know why) could strike at any time. She had to move past the danger and learn fast if she wanted to help Elsa deal with this. After all, that's what she really hoped to get out of this, that was the reason she wanted to learn magic. Not for herself, but to help Elsa. To not just be a burden, for once.

"Let's do it," she said, steel in her voice. Alphonse sighed and nodded before retrieving something from his bag. He removed a small stone bottle and a large wooden cup, as well as a small metal rod. The mage crossed to the creek and filled the cup, then returned to Anna, gesturing for Kristoff to approach. Alphonse unstoppered the bottle and poured the tiniest drop Anna had ever seen into it. He re-stoppered the bottle and began stirring with the rod, motioning for them to sit again.

"What's that?" Kristoff asked, familiar to a degree with potions.

"This," Alphonse answered, "is a catalyst to spiritual travel. It … loosens the spirit from the body, allowing it to move more freely. This can manifest in prophetic dreams or out-of-body experiences in the real world. It can also help one delve into their own psyche, which is what we need." He handed the cup of water to Anna, who hesitated.

"Why don't I just drink a full drop? Don't drugs and stuff work faster if you have more?" Anna asked. Alphonse rubbed his forehead in light exasperation. She still had so much to learn.

"If you drank even a drop straight from the bottle, it would surely kill you. You have no tolerance. And it wouldn't be quick either. Even this is not entirely safe, so I ask again: are you sure you want to do this?" Alphonse knew what she would do before she did it, and he hated himself for it. Anna's gaze hardened and she downed the water in three huge gulps. She sighed at the cold water and waited.

"Well, that wasn't-" Anna coughed and fell forward, Kristoff catching her. Alphonse placed a hand on her forehead and focused, delving within himself for the rune for _potential_. With a little creative thinking it could mean _potential to help Anna_ , and the magic linked them, allowing him to see into her journey …

* * *

 _Anna gasped as she came-to, finding herself back in one of the castle's hallways. No, wait, it wasn't the castle. Everything was swaying, like it was seen through the air above a campfire, but slower. The light came from nowhere, but it was still_ there _. In all, it reminded her of that weird dream, the one she was rapidly beginning to think was not just a dream._

" _Strange, isn't it?" Anna yelped and whirled around to find Alphonse standing behind her. Or wait, maybe standing wasn't the right word. It was a ball of whirling fire as big as an apple, the smoke coming off swirling into a shape that gave off the impression of Alphonse in his cloak, the eyes glowing blue and gold. The … figment faded away about a foot from the ground, suspended in the air._

" _What you're seeing is the smallest representation of my inner-self," Alphonse explained in a voice that was more like an echo. "I've come to guide you, but I can't see as well as you. What do you see?" Anna tried to explain, but she wasn't sure she could do it justice. Everything was so … alien. Alphonse seemed to understand. "We have to find your inner-fire. It will probably resemble a large torch or a candelabra. Something to light on fire."_

 _Anna tried to think, but was distracted by a flash of movement, out of sync with the swaying of the hallway. She almost thought it had been … a person? Alphonse noticed her hesitation. "What do you see?" he asked, wariness in his voice. Anna didn't answer, she simply bolted down the hall. As she turned the corner, she caught another glimpse, this time making out green, and ran toward it._

 _This pattern continued for some time as they ran through the castle, the princess catching only glimpses of their mysterious guide. She couldn't help but notice that their path led them steadily downward, and was confirmed when they entered the dungeons. Among the lower levels, they entered a room that wasn't in the castle proper. The room held a massive fireplace carved in the shape of an open lion's maw. Before the hearth stood their guide._

 _Anna would have gone red if she had been in her body. This woman was … was … Anna couldn't think of a fitting word; beautiful, gorgeous, lovely, they all seemed to fall short. Everything from her wavy blonde hair to her emerald eyes to her rosy cheeks and … other attributes, seemed to dwarf anyone anna had ever seen, even Elsa and Rapunzel. This woman was, Anna could say as a married woman, every wife's waking nightmare._

 _The woman smiled and curtsied ever-so-slightly. "Hello, Anna," she said, her voice low and alluring (she had to admit that). "I've waited a long time to meet you. Finally, dear Woden has led you here." She smiled in a way that was both calming and a little predatory, and waved to Alphonse's shadow._

" _You- you're Freya," Anna stammered. Freya nodded and stepped aside to reveal the fireplace._

" _Despite what Woden, or whatever his new name is, has probably told you, Anna, I'm not going to fight you for your body." Anna's eyebrows shot up and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Freya only chuckled._

" _I'm a Vanir, Anna. Or I was, before the end of our world. One could say I was a princess among the Vanir, much as you are. And while the Aesir focused on war, and for good reason, we Vanir were made of much … simpler things. Growth, seasons,_ fertility _." She smiled wider at that before sobering up. "In other words, I know how cycles work. Our time is done and gone, no matter that some others wish it otherwise. While our spirits linger, our place is no more. It is time for you, and your kin, to take up the mantle and fight for yourselves."_

 _Freya gestured to the fireplace, prompting Anna to step forward. Unsure of what to do, Anna simply reached forward. She felt that warmth from before take hold and her skin began to glow. The fireplace roared to life, the shockwave blasting Anna back-_

Anna gasped as she became aware of her surroundings. Kristoff was holding her, Alphonse was rubbing his temples, and _her skin was glowing again_! All around the clearing the trees and grass started blooming, then would wilt and then grow green again. The glowing faded and the plants returned to normal.

"What just happened?" Anna asked.

"You lit your inner-fire, Anna, and you met your Remnant." He stood and shook himself out, prompting Anna and Kristoff to do the same. "I think that's enough for today," he said, gesturing at the darkening sky. "We'll start the real lessons tomorrow." With that, he led the way back to the castle.

As Kristoff and Anna followed, Kristoff was silently freaking out. Anna had been _glowing_ , and not just in a literal way. She had seemed more … vibrant, more bright, if that were even possible. Like warmth and light that nourished the plants and made life good had been coming from her at the source.

After a moment, the ice harvester came to a decision. "Anna," he said gently squeezing his wife's hand. Anna turned to look at him, question in her eyes. Alphonse slowed, but continued on, granting the couple some measure of privacy. "I think there's something I need to show you."

* * *

Around noon that day, Elsa had finished most of her paperwork and stood to take a break. She glanced out the window of her study, wondering how anna's lessons were going. Alphonse had been generous enough to give a few details on what he intended to do, but had still been rather vague. Perhaps he didn't fully understand what he planned to do himself? Magic seemed like a rather intuitive thing, judging by her own experiences.

A knock at the door interrupted Elsa's thoughts. "Enter," she called, prompting a guard to open the door and bow.

"Your majesty," he said, "Something has happened in the infirmary," the guard reported. Elsa's eyes widened in surprise and she followed the guard, who explained the situation. Apparently, one of the guards had found a survivor of the Serpent who was not a citizen of Arendelle. She had claimed to be a survivor of a shipwreck caused by the monster and had floated up on shore. The guard who had found her had arranged her time in the infirmary.

"Why was I not informed of this?" Elsa asked. While she had no problem with helping those who needed it, especially from something so terrifying, she had a right to know who was staying in her home.

"I only just found out myself, your highness," the captain explained. "Josef is a young man, a fresh recruit, and he stayed with the girl all night. He only explained when I found him this morning watching over her, dead on his feet." The captain grimaced. "Rest assured, your highness, he was severely reprimanded for neglecting protocol and abandoning his duties."

Elsa nodded at the captain's assurance. While she wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought of a man being punished after saving an innocent life, she knew more than anyone that discipline was important in a career such as the guardsmen. After a few more minutes, they arrived at the infirmary, Elsa having to push down a slight twinge of apprehension after what had happened the night before. Was it really only last night?

Elsa was greeted by the sight of a young woman, perhaps a few years older than herself, staring through the window out onto the fjord. The woman had long black hair and bright green eyes, as well as a heart-shaped face and fair skin. She was quite tall for a woman, a head taller than Elsa. A small mole at the corner of her mouth completed the image of a lovely girl. Elsa could see, now, why a young guard would feel so protective.

"Your majesty," the woman greeted with a honey-smooth voice and graceful curtsey. "Thank you so much for your hospitality. I can't begin to thank you enough." She folded her hands before her in a gesture that was quite demure.

"You are most welcome," Elsa said, keeping her reservations to herself. She approached and sat in a chair for visitors, gesturing for the girl to seat herself. "What is your name?" Elsa asked curiously.

"Ester," she replied.

"How did you get here?" Elsa asked. Ester blushed and looked away, rubbing her arm in embarrassment. Elsa was surprised by the response and assured her that it was going to be alright.

Ester seemed to steel herself and blutred out, "I have magic!" before clamping her lips shut and turning away. To say Elsa was surprised was an understatement. If what this girl said was true, it would be two new magic users who had come to Arendelle in the past week.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Elsa said gently. She lifted her hand palm-up and conjured a whirl of snowflakes that floated down around the room. "Magic does not make you evil, only your intent." Elsa smiled reassuringly. "So what can you do?"

Ester hesitated before explaining. "I can- I- I see visions of the future," she said. "Things that will happen. When I was a girl, I predicted a fearsome storm that would hit my village three days before it happened. Another time I predicted that a wolf would slaughter a farmer's sheep, and two nights later, the sheep were dead. And a few months ago, I foresaw a fire that would burn half the village to ash." Ester lowered her eyes, moisture gathering in them. "The townsfolk … they called me a witch, said I was d-doing it on purpose. T-t-that I was causing it." She paused to choke back a sob. "They threw rocks at me, threatened my family …" She sniffled. "I left to - to protect them." She looked Elsa in the eyes, tears falling.

"Then I saw something far worse than anything before. I saw … I saw a fearsome snake rise from the sea, attacking a small kingdom. I knew, somehow, that it was here. I-I boarded a ship to try and warn the queen, you, but-" she sobbed, "but our ship was destroyed by the beast! I was too late!" With that, the girl burst into tears, fearsome sobs wracking her slim form.

Elsa herself covered her mouth in horror, horror at what this girl had gone through. In a way, it was an even darker reflection of her own childhood. Elsa placed a hand on Ester's shoulder, hoping to comfort her, and the girl latched onto the queen. Elsa stiffened and blushed, rubbing the girl's back with an air of awkwardness. After a few moments, Ester pulled away and rubbed her eyes.

"Apologies, your highness, I just-" she cut off, too overwhelmed by her grief. Elsa pushed down her discomfort and smiled for her, rising from her seat.

"It's fine, Ester. Why don't you get some rest? I'll ask my chief of commerce about a job in the city, if you wish?" Ester smiled and nodded, standing as well.

"Thank you, your highness. You're too k-" Ester grimaced with a hiss of pain and stumbled back, clutching her head and panting hard. Elsa approached and tried to examine her. Ester opened her eyes to reveal the green and black replaced by the palest blue. She seemed to look around before shrieking in mortal panic. She grimaced again and collapsed onto the bed.

Elsa summoned the physician, but the older man had no chance to examine her. Ester bolted upright and looked at Elsa, fear in her eyes. "Your Majesty, you have to do something. The princess! She's going to be killed!"

 **What do y'all think? Leave a review!**


	12. Trials and Troubles

**Chapter Eleven: Trials and Troubles**

As Alphonse led Anna and Kristoff through the gates of Arendelle Castle, he continued what he had been saying before. "Remember, Princess Anna, no experimenting. At least not without a trained foundation. Pushing your limits, especially undefined ones, can be incredibly dangerous if you don't know what you're doing."

"How do _you_ know what you're doing?" Anna quickly asked, hoping for insight into Alphonse's past. The mage chuckled at the question, a half-smile on his face (Anna realized she had never seen him really smile.)

"Nice try, Princess. I'll tell that story in my own time." He hummed in thought. "Suffice it to say, it was not a pleasant experience." Anna's eyes widened in surprise, but she let it pass. However he had been taught, Anna felt that Alphonse himself would be a great teacher.

"Uh, guys?" Kristoff said, his tone nervous. Both looked forward to find Elsa standing in the hall, her arms crossed and a familiar icy cast to her features. Alphonse may not have recognized it, but Anna and Kristoff certainly did. Elsa was not happy.

"Anna, Kristoff, leave us," Elsa said, her faux-calm tone belying the clear order. The couple hesitated only a split-second before darting away. Alphonse sighed in resignation before facing the Snow Queen.

"Can I help you, Queen Elsa?" he asked, voice heavy with formality. Gone was the warmth from that morning, replaced only with grim solemnness. The queen slowly and deliberately approached the mage, the only change in her expression being the intensity in her gaze. She stopped right in front of him, glaring unblinkingly into his mismatched eyes.

"Why are you here, Alphonse?" Elsa asked. The mage's eyebrow rose in mild confusion.

"I'm here to help, if at all possible," he answered simply. Elsa's eyes narrowed and the temperature of the room dropped like a stone; Alphonse felt a slight wriggle of dread worm through his gut. He had faced down monsters that would make the bravest of men weep in fear, but facing down the Snow Queen was something entirely different.

"I mean, why are you here? What do you plan to accomplish by helping me, my sister, or my people?" Elsa asked, voice as cold as the room.

"Why are you asking me?" Alphonse responded. "You've been keen on my help for days now, and you choose this moment to grow suspicious?" Alphonse's tone may have been sarcastic, but inside he was genuinely confused. And if he were completely honest, a little hurt. After everything they had face in the last week, did he not earn some trust?

"Not when my little sister is in danger," Elsa said.

* * *

" _What did you see?" Elsa asked, forcing down her instinctual panic. She had to think clearly if she were to react to this revelation in the best way._

" _I saw the princess on the ground, surrounded by blood. Standing above her was a man in a dark cloak, his hands stained with red, a sneer on his face, and a mad gleam in ... mismatched eyes." Elsa's blood went cold, as if her magic had finally learned to affect her._

" _Are you certain? Elsa asked. The mismatched eyes could only be Alphonse, but that made no sense! Why would he hurt Anna when he had saved Arendelle twice, and Anna herself at least once? Unless … no, it couldn't be …_

" _I've heard rumors," Ester whispered, "of a sorcerer living in the Castle of Arendelle?" Elsa felt her insides writhe at the very thought. Alphonse was no malicious sorcerer, he was … he was … What was he? What did she really know about the man? He had wandered into the castle after destroying a horde of undead monsters, and Elsa had just let it happen._

 _Could it be that Alphonse was the sorcerer? Had he set it all up to look like a hero, to win the love of Arendelle? Elsa felt bitterness rise within her chest as she remembered one crucial fact: a man, a different man, had done something fearfully similar before. And he had left her sister to die and tried to kill Elsa herself._

 _Elsa felt tears begin to prickle at the corners of her eyes. Pain lanced through her heart. Why was she reacting this way? Elsa stood, poised as ever, and thanked Ester before turning to leave._

" _Captain, keep an eye on the town. Inform me immediately if Alphonse returns." The captain nodded and hurried off to enact his orders. Elsa strode away, planning on how to confront her supposed savior._

* * *

Elsa watched carefully for any change in Alphonse's expression, any twitch, blush, or other tell that would reveal ulterior motives. And yet even with her practiced eye, she saw nothing give.

"Why would you think that Princess Anna is in any danger?" Alphonse asked, concern underlying his even tone.

"What do you know of foresight?" Elsa asked, hoping to throw him off. "The power to see, truly _see_ , the future?"Alphonse's eyes widened at the unexpected question.

"Queen Elsa, a skill like that has not manifested in three generations. Though," he added off-handedly, "that streak may be broken with your sister, given her recent dream." Elsa felt anger rise in her chest.

"This not a joke, Alphonse! If that is even your real name. Are you here to hurt my sister? And don't think of lying, I will know if you do." It was a half-bluff, but he didn't need to know that. Alphonse drew closer, their faces parted by less than an inch, and looked the queen dead in the eye.

"No," was all he said. Elsa grit her teeth in frustration. Damn it all, he was telling the truth. She felt his sincerity in her gut, in her heart, in her very soul! But what did this mean? Was Ester's vision wrong?! And on that note, she realized, why did she trust this woman's supposed vision so strongly, as opposed to the man who had saved her family three times now?

"What is this about, Elsa?" Alphonse asked, ignoring the pulsing throb in his chest. Why was he feeling this way? She was just a woman he barely knew. Why was this accusation hurting him?

Elsa closed her eyes with a sigh, breaking eye contact and surrendering their unspoken dual. "A woman washed up on shore last night. She was brought in by one of the guards to the infirmary. I spoke to her earlier today and she claimed to have magic, to be able to see tragedies in the future. She had a vision of a man with mismatched eyes killing Anna." Elsa looked up into those mismatched eyes. "Why would she see that?!" Elsa was almost begging, begging to know the truth. To understand why this had happened.

Alphonse's eyes narrowed in thought. He pushed aside the thought that Elsa would trust a literally complete stranger over him (how was he any different, really?) and considered this mysterious woman. A whisper of insight, intuition born of his sacrifice so long ago, lanced through his mind.

"Elsa, did this woman have any unusual markings? Particularly around the eyes or the lips?" Elsa stepped back in surprise at the question, considering her answer.

"She had a small mole at the corner of her mouth," she answered unsurely. Alphonse went white as a ghost, grip so tight around his staff that his knuckles turned the same.

"The princess _is_ in danger," he said shortly and bolted away. Elsa followed, fear gripping her heart. What had she done?

* * *

Anna followed Kristoff to the gardens, worry itching under her skin. She didn't doubt Alphonse's talents in any way, but Elsa was a force to be reckoned with when angry. Even without her powers lashing out, Elsa was determined and intelligent, which could be a dangerous combination on the rare occasions she was mistaken. She rarely let a stance go unless proven absolutely wrong. She hoped Alphonse was ready to handle something like that.

"Don't worry about Alphonse," Kristoff said, taking his wife's hand. "He's a smart guy, I'm sure he'll be fine." Anna smiled at her husband, thankful for his assurance. Then her thoughts wandered to what he had told her on the way back to the castle.

"So what's in the box?" Anna asked. While Kristoff had told the story of how he acquired it, and from whom, he had neglected to mention exactly what it was. In answer, Kristoff merely shrugged and rubbed the back of his head.

"I didn't open it. I … I wanted you to be there when I did." Kristoff blushed at his own words, unsure how that would sound, even from her husband. Anna smiled and wrapped her arms around Kristoff's with a loving smile. She was happy he had thought of her.

As they entered the garden, Anna paused at the sight of what could only be Kristoff's box nestled under an oak tree. It was a bulky thing, built entirely of dark metal and appeared to be sealed tighter than anything she had ever seen. Kristoff drew her near and knelt, Anna following.

Kristoff removed a length of woven leather, a bracelet strung with two iron rings, and fastened it around his wrist. He ran his hands over the box, searching for a latch or lever. Anything that might open it. Eventually, he found a catch underneath the lip of the chest's lid and pressed it. Something clicked and a mechanical grinding emanated from the box, like gears turning.

Anna and Kristoff traded a glance as the grinding continued for a good minute before ending, the lid of the chest lifting ever-so-slightly. Kristoff opened the chest to reveal … what on earth?

The box held a hammer, completely built from stone. The handle was short and wrapped in leather, the head bulky and the top sloping up to come to a point, almost in the shape of a crown.

"A hammer?" Kristoff asked and took hold of it. Kristoff hissed as he felt a shock come from the tool. His bracelet fell off and _grew_ into a full-length belt, small metal disks sewn into the leather. The rings grew into a pair of metal-backed fingerless leather gloves, studs sewn into the knuckles. Seized by an instinct he hadn't realized was there, Kristoff quickly fastened on the belt and gloves.

As Anna watched this happen, idly thinking that growing accessories really didn't surprise her anymore, she felt a sharp sense of dread crawl down her spine. She glanced back to find a woman slowly approaching, one hand behind her back. Anna stood up, suddenly uncomfortable, and palmed a stick from the ground and hiding it behind her back.

"Hi," she said brightly, hoping to cover her inexplicable rising anxiety. "Who're you? I'm Anna. I mean - I guess 'Princess' Anna, but I really don't care about titles and all that stuff. What's your name? I mean, I know every member of the staff by name so you can't be one of them - unless you're new, so welcome if you are and if you aren't, uh-" She knew she was rambling, but at least it distracted her.

The woman smiled, the light from the setting sun making her skin seem to burn, but it was far from a calming smile. This look was … malevolent, predatory. And … scarily familiar. The woman removed something from behind her back, revealing a leaf-bladed short sword. "Princess," she said lowly.

And in that moment, the woman Shifted, just like Alphonse would (though it was more like flames spreading than ripples in a pond), and settled into a new shape. A familiar, unwelcome shape. The shape of Hans Westergard.

"Hello, Anna," Hans greeted, his lips curled in a harsh sneer. Anna gasped at the small scars that lined the prince's lips, as if … as if his lips had been sewn shut, just like …

"…Loki," Anna whispered, face pale.

"Yes?" Hans asked, voice suddenly a bit higher, with an edge of madness. His eyes had changed color to a lighter green with yellow mixed in (how Anna noticed that, she couldn't say). Anna gasped as Kristoff rose and moved in front of her in one smooth motion, the hammer from his box held out before him.

Hans paused in his approach and laughed cruelly, the sound seeming to warp as if _two_ people were laughing. "Please, man-troll, don't embarrass yourself. Without proper instruction it's just a lump of stone and metal." He lifted the blade in his hand. "Unlike this." Hans flicked his wrist and Kristoff was jerked to the side by a blast of wind to collapse against the ground.

Hans resumed his approach, his smile fading into a look of disappointment. "That's the man you settled on after me? Really, Anna, I thought you had better taste than _that_." He gestured vaguely in Kristoff's direction, derision dripping from his words and his eyes never leaving hers.

Anna felt anger blossom within her. No one talked about her husband like that! She felt something bloom in the back of her consciousness, like a glowing candle flame. Hans scoffed, twirling his short sword between his fingers as if it were a thin reed and not a long piece of metal. He paused and lunged forward into a downward swing.

On instinct forged from years of practice, Anna blocked with the branch she had picked up. Blocking at an angle, the sword bit into the wood of her improvised club and Hans grabbed her wrist, keeping them close together. Anna's eyes widened as her weapon began to turn black, flakes breaking off and the wood crumbling. On impulse, Anna forced her head forward, smashing into Hans's nose, and jerking way as he clutched at his face.

Anna leapt away and scooped up another branch, readying herself. Hans removed his hand from his nose, revealing nothing wrong aside from a small dribble of blood. "As impetuous as always, eh Anna? Just like your predecessor." His voice was lighter again, as were his eyes. What was happening to him?

Anna's gaze flicked to his sword, shining like a torch in the evening light. She noticed an engraving along the blade, like some kind of vine. Hans smiled and held up his sword as if offering a better look.

"Like it? Took me ages it find the summoning for it after I woke up. Or wait," Hans seemed to think his words over, "after _he_ woke up. Yes, that's-" Hans shot forward like lightning, Anna barely having time to dodge. The mad prince kept coming, his style chaotic and unpredictable. After only a few minutes, Anna was panting, all her concentration on anticipating his moves and batting them aside.

Anna ducked and swung out her legs, scything Hans's feet out from under him. In the same motion, she rolled away and back onto her feet, psyching herself up. She was scared, she had to admit, but she _wouldn't_ back down. Not now, not ever! As Anna charged forward, she absently felt a comforting warmth run down her arms. Hans blocked her strike, his sword's edge digging into her weapon. But unlike last time, nothing happened. The scores and scratches from their duel, black with rot, remained the same - but nothing spread anymore. And the grain of branch was glowing, just like Anna's skin.

Hans grimaced and pulled away, leaping back to plan for this development. Damn it all, Odin's new form had begun to teach her. Really, he should have expected that. Odin had always been pragmatic, and teaching Freya's Residuum was the perfect way to gain an ally, one strong in magic. Then there was the Snow Queen, whose power came from the cosmos and not from rebirth.

As Hans prepared to engage again, he heard an ominous crackling. Blades of ice sprung from the ground in a speeding line, forcing Hans to conjure a whirlwind to raise him above it. He landed some distance away and growled in frustration. The Snow Queen and Alphonse (so the castle staff had called him when he asked in his disguise) had arrived. How had his Persuasion on the queen worn off so soon? Surely she should be trying to kill the cloaked mage by now.

Alphonse, wrapped in a familiarly-styled blue cloak, glared at him with barely-controlled fury. And that was a torch before a fire pit compared to the hatred in Elsa's eyes. And as if to mock him, now the mountain man was getting up, holding that thrice-damned hammer in a tight grip and glaring with fierce venom (Hans flinched at that term, memories not his own rising up).

"Well," Hans said with a calm smile, "I've enjoyed catching up, but I've got things to do and plans to enact." He gave a mock salute and Shifted into a falcon. "Ta-ta, everyone." Hans took off and made it a few yards before screeching in pain at something catching his foot. A thin, silvery ribbon was wrapped around his ankle, the other end in Alphonse's hands. The mage glowed for a moment, a glow visible only to Hans, and shot something from his outstretched hand. The thing - a spear of light? - struck Hans in the chest and the ribbon fell away, letting him escape.

As Hans fled, he felt the pain in his chest intensify, the sensation spreading across his body like cracks in stone. He lost control of himself and shifted back to human form. And then he fell. Hans resisted the urge to scream and channeled his mortal panic into focus, Shifting again just long enough to flaps his wings and avoid the full impact of hitting the ground.

After smashing through the trees and landing in the grass, he returned to human shape. The prince rose with a groan and looked himself over. He tried to Shift, to take on a new undamaged form, but it was like a wall had been set up in his mind.

"What is happening?" Hans growled. He grimaced, covering his face with a gloved hand, and laughed.

" _It seems the mage has dexterity as well as power, young prince,_ " he giggled, voice once again higher.

Hans shook his head. "What has he done to me?" He waited for a reply, eyes darting across the trees as if they would give him answers. "Well?!" he shouted, before gasping.

" _He's placed a binding charm on you, sealing away our magic."_ Hans placed a hand on his chin. " _That's quite impressive given he's Untried. It took Odin his Sacrifice to learn to string together runes like that. Seems the boy was_ quite _motivated. But by what, I wonder?_ " Hans grit his teeth.

"How do we break it. This 'binding'?" the prince growled. He grimaced and laughed again, the sound echoing from the forest around them.

" _That's the laughy part, boy. We can't! Not in this condition, at least. But don't get your trousers in a twist. It's temporary, maybe lasts three days or so._ " He paused and thought their circumstances over. " _Perhaps we can use this to our advantage. The boy knows he has time. We can use this to prepare, to conjure another attack!"_ He cackled again before falling to his knees to retch into the grass.

"Wait, if he sealed away our power, then how are you still here?" Hans asked himself. He groaned and stumbled to lean against a tree, giggling to himself.

" _Because contacting me, contacting yourself, is no longer an act of magic. We are one, young prince, one and the same."_ He laughed and cried, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cackled.

"Am I mad?" Hans asked, his voice no higher than a whisper. He grinned, lips stretched in a mad grimace.

" _Oh, Hans, my man. You didn't need me for that. And don't you know? Genius and madness are but a hair's breadth apart."_ Hans collapsed against a birch, giggling to himself in a double-layered voice, tears streaming down his cheeks and cunning mind working furiously. What was he to do now with his spare time?

* * *

Alphonse wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched Hans fly away, the faux-falcon's flight-path shaky. He felt himself start to tumble as dizziness set in. Kristoff caught him, bracing the mage as he regained his balance.

"Um, Alphonse," Anna said tentatively, "you've got a little-" She gestured to her nose. Alphonse wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand, which came back stained with red.

"Well, that can't be good," he muttered to himself, grimacing as searing pain lanced through his skull. Elsa walked around Anna and covered her palm with frost, applying the makeshift cold compress against Alphonse's head.

"We need to get the doctor-" she began.

"No!" Alphonse interrupted, "I'll be fine. Jus-Just give me a moment." Kristoff lowered the mage to the ground. Alphonse took a few deep breaths to center himself. After a few moments, the migraine faded into a dull throbbing, a reminder of his foolishness. Perhaps he should take his own advice about not experimenting with his limits?

Alphonse opened his eyes to see everyone gathered around, gazing at him with identical looks of concern. Even Elsa, who seemed just past her calm facade to be on the verge of tears. Alphonse tried to keep his expression clear despite the growing feeling of warmth rising in his chest. He cleared his throat and stood, bracing himself on his staff.

"What did you do to Hans?" Anna asked, screaming in awe and curiosity. Alphonse grimaced at her volume.

"It was a Binding Charm. It was a string of runes that will seal away his powers, at least temporarily. Should last a few days." Alphonse rubbed at his temples, willing his headache away (though, really, that just made it worse). "Kristoff, was there something you wanted to show us?" he asked. Alphonse hated himself for throwing the ice harvester into the spotlight, but he couldn't bear much more of the outright concern in his friend's' faces. Wait, he had _friends_?

Kristoff held out the hammer he had been hiding behind his back, almost like a guilty child. Alphonse's eyes widened at the sight of it, memories from Before rushing to the front of his mind. "Where did you get that?" Alphonse asked, uncaring of the awe in his voice.

Kristoff blushed and rubbed the back of his head, dropping the hammer that landed with an unusually loud thud. "I, uh, Pabbie told me to go to a cave in the mountains and there were two old guys in there. One was already gone and the other was close. He told me to take the chest it was in and 'protect my love'." He glanced at Anna and looked away, blush growing. Anna giggled.

"Do you know what that is?" Alphonse asked, his headache forgotten. Anna and Kristoff shook their heads.

"Mjolnir," Elsa said, voice deceivingly calm. Alphonse lifted an eyebrow in surprise and nodded. He reached into himself, careful to avoid anything too strenuous, and embraced the rune for _ancestor_.

Anna gasped as she saw a faint glow around Alphonse, a slight tingling over her skin like she were reacting to Alphonse's powers. The mage took Kristoff's hand and forced him to touch the hammer's top, forging a link to it and the one who had used it Before. The one who still held a bond with it, even in another life.

Kristoff gasped as he felt something surge within him, reacting to the hammer. Alphonse saw, briefly, an image over Kristoff's skin like he had with Anna. He saw a large man, even larger than Kristoff, with wild red hair bound by a leather headband, an even more wild beard tied under the chin. Icy blue eyes gazed with raw intensity from a scarred face. The man was dressed in wool clothes with a leather vest and boots, iron gloves on his hands and a thick belt around his waist.

This was Thor, the champion of Man and slayer of monsters. This being, so different from the blonde, quiet ice harvester, was Kristoff's Remnant.

Alphonse allowed Kristoff to drop the hammer, which landed with a deep _thud_. The mage backed away, thoughts whirling over this development. Really, should he be surprised? It was far too much of a coincidence that Anna was a Residuum for the man she had fallen for, that Fate had joined to her, to not be one himself.

The real problem was that he didn't have time to teach both of them the relatively little he could. It impressed upon him how lucky (relatively speaking) that Hugin and Munin had been there to teach him his skills inherited from Odin. But Anna and Kristoff didn't have their Remnants to teach them the subtle nuances of who they had been before. Unless …

"Alphonse, what's wrong," Elsa asked, a hand on his shoulder. Upon glancing at her, she removed it as if she had been burned, but he felt warmth where she had touched him. Alphonse buried that observation and focused on the task at hand.

"Just thinking," he said evasively.

"About teaching us?" Anna asked, grinning widely. Wow. Underneath the energetic and impulsive surface, Anna was quite sharp. Alphonse grimaced before trying to explain.

"Anna, I can't teach you both." Anna's face fell and Kristoff took a step back in surprise. "It's not that I don't want to, I really do," he assured, "but I literally don't have the time. Besides," he paused, searching for the right words, "I can't even teach Anna any more than the basics of what she needs, much less Kristoff how to use Mjolnir." His admission was met with silence. That is, until Anna posed the question that a part of him had been most dreading.

"What about a shortcut?" the princess asked. "You said there's always a shortcut." Alphonse grit his teeth in regret. Why? Why had he let that tiny, devastating piece of information slip? He rubbed his closed eyes, which felt heavier by the second.

"There is, but I don't-" Without thinking, Alphonse reached up to catch something that fell from the sky. He looked up to see two specks of black against the red-hued sky, flying into the distance. The mage bit back a string of verbal and literal curses.

"And now I do," he corrected, opening his hand to reveal a clutch of large, vibrant-red berries. He gestured to the castle. "I assume you're going to ignore my warnings, so let's get moving."

 **New chap. Hope you liked the battle. What's in store for our heroes? Read, review, and find out next time!**


	13. Lessons Of All Kinds

**Chapter Twelve: Lessons Of All Kinds**

As the sun finally set, Elsa waited with her sister and brother-in-law for Alphonse to return. The mage had said little on the walk into the castle and had been gone for a while. Elsa met Anna's eye and smiled in reassurance, prompting the bubbly woman to do the same. Kristoff seemed to be lightly snoozing.

Elsa looked away and her smile faded. Though she seemed content, it was all a mask. Despite her smile, Elsa felt guilt and self-loathing writhe under her skin like ants. How could she had been so _stupid_?! She had trusted Hans, _Hans!_ , and it had once-again almost gotten Anna killed! And just as bad, she had turned on her heel against the man who had saved her, her family, and her people on at least three occasions. And so easily, on the word of a "woman" who had seemed to have magic and a tragic background.

Elsa stiffened as the door to the sitting room opened, revealing Alphonse carrying a tea tray with two lightly steaming cups. The mage approached and set the tray down before settling into a chair and preparing to explain.

"Anna, Kristoff, this is your shortcut." He gestured at the rose-hued tea. "This tea is brewed from the berries of a special tree and will allow you to contact your Remnant through your dreams. This in turn will allow you to learn at a much faster rate and with far more depth than I can teach you." Anna raised a hand, utterly unashamed of looking like a child during lessons. Alphonse nodded for her to ask.

"Is that how you learned magic?" Anna asked, hoping the sudden question would trip him up. Alphonse fought the urge to grimace at the princess's stubborn desire to learn about him.

"Yes and no," he answered. "I did learn from my Remnant, in a roundabout way, but not with the tea. I have used the tea for other things, though, so I know it can at least do this." He gestured to the cups. "Drink quickly and go to bed immediately. The effects will make you drowsy." He quirked the tiniest of grins. "And you won't enjoy the morning," he added.

Anna and Kristoff glanced at each other. Both had felt hangovers before (Kristoff was experienced and Anna was adventurous) and neither looked forward to that. Anna shook off her moment of hesitance and downed her tea in one go, Kristoff not a moment behind. Both stood and made it halfway to the door before Anna swayed and collapsed. Kristoff caught her and didn't make it another step before Alphonse had to rise and catch him, grunting under the weight of the larger man.

"Maybe I shouldn't have made it so strong," Alphonse grunted. He tried to reposition Kristoff without letting the mountain man drop his wife. After a few moments, and rapidly losing stamina, Alphonse simply laid them down. The mage sighed and rubbed his forehead, thinking about how to get these two to their room.

"Allow me," Elsa said. She waved her hand, conjuring a pair of small whirlwind that settled into two eight-foot, lumbering snow creatures. As Alphonse watched in surprise, the giants scooped up the princess and her consort and carried them away. Elsa smiled, almost giggling at the dumbstruck look on Alphonse's face. The mage shook it off and prepared to leave.

"Wait," Elsa said unthinkingly. Alphonse stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. Elsa bit her lip, a habit her mother had not approved of growing up, and tried to think over what she was to say. "I-" she started, tripping over her words, "I'm sorry," she settled on, knowing full-well that it was a mediocre apology. Alphonse shrugged in response.

"You were under a Persuasion," Alphonse said. "Loki's silver tongue was not just a gift for persuasive speech, but a literal piece of magic. He could weave subtle enchantment on the unwary, leaving them open to suggestion. You have nothing to apologize for." He turned to leave again but Elsa grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Yes, I do," she said, steel in her voice. "I turned on you, Alphonse. And I am sorry. I trusted a person I had barely met over you. And I'm _sorry_." She tried to convey her guilt and sorrow in those words, but the mage seemed unaffected. He gave a small smile, almost a grimace, and shrugged again.

"You've barely met me," he said with a humorless chuckle, "how is that a betrayal?" Elsa grit her teeth, a flash of anger granting her thoughts focus. How could he not see that she was sorry? That she would take it back if she could? That he was so infinitely different than "Ester" could ever be, even if she had been real? With no other way to explain, Elsa did something that anyone who knew the queen would have had to see to believe. She wrapped her arms around Alphonse's shoulders and ... hugged him.

The mage seized up at the contact, both quite surprised and unsure how to respond. He had taken the queen for someone who would not initiate contact, who was more comfortable responding than anything else. Alphonse gently placed his hands over her hips, hoping to make her feel better, to show that he bore no ill will. He meant what he said - her words had stung, but he didn't hold them against her.

They stood there for some time until Elsa finally let him go. She looked him in the eyes, those unsettling yet beautiful eyes, and decided to take a risk.

"What happened to make you like this?" she asked. To make him a magician, to make him shrug off pain and sorrow like drops of rain, to make him fight for those he didn't even know?

Alphonse felt his inner walls rising, the desire to hide from the anguish of his past, all of his past, rushing into the void she had formed with a simple embrace. But looking into those soulful blue eyes, eyes that shone with compassion and an innocent desire to _know_ , he couldn't find it in himself to refuse. At least not totally.

"I won't tell about my past, Elsa. Not yet." Alphonse said. "But perhaps you should know about Ragnarok and why it wasn't … permanent."

* * *

Settled in their room by the snow giants, which evaporated upon completing their task, Anna and Kristoff slept deeply. But their thoughts were anything but still.

 _Anna sat in a clearing within a deep forest, a fire pit separating her from Freya. The woman smiled, a smile totally unlike the alluring look Anna had expected. This smile was full of joy and contentedness._

" _Hello again, Princess Anna. I see Odin's Residuum has sent you to learn from me. Interesting, I must admit. The boy clearly has a smaller ego than the All-Father did." The woman stood, her dress remaining immaculate and the firelight seeming to reflect off of her and make her glow. "Shall we begin?" she asked. Anna nodded and stood, following the goddess as she led them through the trees._

" _What do you think magic is?" Freya asked, the trees seeming to part for her. Anna thought about it for a moment and realized she didn't know. Freya smiled at her silence, taking it as an answer._

" _Magic is a facet of nature, like the rain, wind, and light. Like gravity, motion, and heat. And by those with the talent for it, magic can be tapped into and directed to accomplish what they want to happen, woven to enact their will upon the world." Freya glanced at Anna._

" _Do not misunderstand, Anna. Magic is not 'controlled' or 'wielded' like a weapon. That is, at best, a poor comparison that would better suit runic magic, which I know little of and don't care to learn." She smiled a little. "Not that I could anymore if I tried." She chuckled at her own joke and settled back into teaching._

"Our _kind of magic, weaving magic, is about learning to become a part of the great power that already exists in nature, and then using that to shape the world. Runes force the world to do as they write out, like a sledgehammer to reality. Ours is more … elegant, harnessing the power that flows through the cosmos. Like the powerful wind, and we are the sails that harness that power to move."_

 _Freya stopped in another clearing, larger than the first and marred with blackened crags, as if fires had burned the place. She turned to face Anna, smile now cool and calculating. "Be forewarned, Princess, that learning magic can be an intensive process. And, quite frankly, we have lots of time on our hands." Freya drew closer until she as mere inches from Anna._

 _She looked into Anna's eyes. "First step: sensing the magic around you." Freya drew close and took Anna's face in her hands before kissing her forehead. And for that single moment of contact, Anna could truly See. She perceived the latent magic that rested within all things, like masses of green-gold mist shot with streams of orange, pulsing like the ripples in a pond to the beat of some great unseen heart. She saw the currents of magic in the air, washing over the rocks and trees like a blanket. And she saw Freya blazing with power like a bonfire._

 _Freya pulled back and Anna reeled away, sweat pouring down her arms and face as her mind struggled to assimilate what she had just seen. She slowed her breathing and tried to relax, then turned to face her Remnant, her mentor, her former self._

" _What now?" she asked. Freya grinned._

" _Now you learn to open yourself up to that flow." Freya's skin began to faintly glow. "Let us begin."_

* * *

 _Kristoff, long since having met Thor and been struck by their glaring differences in temperament (and gotten past it) focused on the clear skies above them. Though it was a dream, Thor had somehow made it as close to reality as possible, simulating the challenge of controlling Mjolnir in the real world._

 _Kristoff lifted the hammer, his belt of strength and protective gloves securely fastened, and focused on the strange substance the weapon was made from. What he had originally taken for stone and wood was really some sort of stone-metal cross-weave, like dark-grey rock shot through with veins of silvery metal. Thor, standing to the side with his arms crossed, had told him to become familiar with the weapon to better use it as a focal point._

" _Remember, Kristoff," he said in a gravelly, resonating voice that brought distant thunder to mind, "the power is yours, not the hammer's. Mjolnir is simply something to focus through, rather than simply focusing on the enormity of the sky. And that's the key: focus!"_

 _Kristoff closed his free hand into a fist and tried to remember one of Thor's first lessons from the beginning of his dream: channeling anger rage into focus and strength. "Anger is like the lightning you can control," the Thunderer had said. "It is energy and power to decimate the things in your path. You must control it, mold it, forge it into a weapon to fight_ for _you and not against you." Kristoff knew Thor was purposely goading him, trying to frustrate him. And he tried to harness that._

 _Kristoff looked to the sky, cloudless and bright, and got angry, wrapping it around himself like a cloak and forcing it into submission. The runes decorating Mjolnir's head began to faintly glow. Clouds - deep, dark thunderheads - began to roll in, lightning flickering from them like the tongues of fearsome serpents. Kristoff could feel it, the power raging in those clouds. He could feel it - and he took hold of it. He grasped it with an imagined fist and swung Mjolnir down, the lightning following his command to crash against the mountainside above him and leave a smoking crater in the distance._

 _Thor nodded in approval and approached. "Now a new trick," he said with a laugh. "Throw it at that tree and miss," he commanded. Kristoff looked at the burly god as if he were crazy, but shrugged and threw as hard as he could. The hammer soared into open air. And swung around to return. Kristoff yelped and held out his hand, which Mjolnir nestled into like a mother eagle._

 _Thor chuckled. "Cool, huh?" he asked. Kristoff smiled._

" _Yeah."_

* * *

Elsa sipped at a cup of tea, hastily prepared by Gerda at her request, and prepared herself to try and follow Alphonse's lecture. She was a little disappointed that the mage wouldn't reveal any of his past, but decided not to push the issue. He was being gracious enough to move past her actions and she felt that she should honor that. Besides, she was truly interested in the topic he had chosen.

Alphonse finished stirring honey into his tea and downed it in one gulp, seeming to ignore the heat. He set his cup down and twisted his neck until it audibly cracked and sighed in contentment.

"I am certain you are familiar with the stories of Ragnarok?" Alphonse asked. Elsa nodded, to which Alphonse quirked a smile.

"Ragnarok, from what I can remember from Odin's memories, as well as dreams in which I've relived it, ran fairly similarly to the prophecies laid down by an undead seeress that described it to Odin. Loki escaped his imprisonment, Fenrir broke free of his binds, the World Serpent woke, and so on. Odin and his einherjar rode to battle, Fenrir killed Odin and was killed by Vidar, Thor killed Jormungandr and died from its venom, Loki and Heimdall killed each other, Garm killed Tyr, and on and on. All of that was written beforehand." He looked Elsa in the eye. "What wasn't written was what would happen after."

Alphonse lifted a hand and placed it on Elsa's head, and everything went black. The blackness gave way to an image of a massive tree, nine clumps of green-covered stone nestled in its branches, roots, and trunk. _Yggdrasil_ , she realized. She was looking at the World Tree. The silence was shattered by a great horn and the tree began to smoulder, and then to burn and the worlds with it. Water rushed along its branches and roots, flooding the worlds. The great ash tree trembled and collapsed into itself, the worlds smashing together. The fires were put out by the waters, the waters boiled away by the heat of the fires. All that was left was a large, roughly-spherical stone core. The mass of stones began to be covered with green ...

Elsa gasped as Alphonse pulled away, her vision returning. "That was the grand scheme of Ragnarok," he explained. "The gods died and the worlds ended." He grinned. "But the world, _our_ world, emerged from the cataclysm. Our modern Earth is the remains of the Nine Worlds coming together."

Elsa looked away to process this revelation, one that Alphonse seemed to utterly believe. And, she had to admit, it did make a lot of sense. "What happened to Yggdrasil?" she asked. Alphonse smiled at the question and produced a pad of paper and a charcoal pencil from his bag and began drawing.

"Are you familiar with the agricultural practice of 'striking'?" he asked. Elsa nodded, remembering her childhood tutors explaining the process during her lessons on agriculture (all heirs were meant to have at least a working knowledge of the harvest). The practice referred to removing small pieces of a plant's stem or roots, then replanting them in moist soil. The cutting, if the striking was done properly, would grow into a new, smaller version of the original plant.

"Well," Alphonse continued, "during Ragnarok, you saw that Yggdrasil itself shook and collapsed into itself, bringing the Nine Worlds crashing together. It was burned to cinders and quenched in the void of Ginnungagap. But splinters survived the destruction." He looked at Elsa as if waiting for her to realize something. Elsa thought over what he had said about spl- wait a moment. Splinters from _that_ tree?! A splinter from that would be larger than this very castle, at the least!

"Now you see my point," he said. "These splinters landed in the remains of the Nine Worlds, the cradle of our own world, and many took root. As our own world was reborn and began to grow, so did they." He showed her what he had drawn, a rough illustration of the modern world, from the coast of China to the Americas. And dotting the continents, connected by dashed lines, were small shapes that resembled clovers. "These cuttings, Scions we call them, litter the world and keep it rooted together."

Elsa took the paper and studied it more closely. "Is this accurate?" she asked. Alphonse shrugged.

"About as accurate as I can get. I'm not even certain Hugin and Munin know the exact number of Scions." Elsa nodded at his answer and passed the diagram back.

"In the old stories, people could travel between worlds on the branches of Yggdrasil," Elsa mentioned. "Can these 'Scions' do something similar?" Alphonse nodded.

"All of the Scions are offshoots of the original cosmic parent plant. In a metaphysical sense, they are all connected by magic, by the binding force of the universe. Using that connection, one knowledgeable in magic can use a Scion to travel to any other of its kind, allowing them to traverse hundreds or thousands of miles in mere moments." Alphonse gave a slight grimace. "The experience is … both exhilarating and frightening."

Elsa giggled at his look, bringing him back from whatever memory he had been in, and he laughed with her. Another question struck her. "How do you know all of this?" she asked. Alphonse's glower forced her to backtrack. "Not that I'm prying, just … who could have taught all of this to you?" Alphonse's expression cleared and he looked away.

"A few things, really. First was the memories from Odin, which are sleeping inside me like Freya's are in Anna or Thor's in Kristoff. Another source I will not say. And the last, I was taught by those who watched it all happen: Hugin and Munin."

Elsa's eyes widened. "So, wait, they're the real Hugin and Munin? Odin's actual ravens? How did they-?"

"Survive?" Alphonse finished quickly. Elsa nodded, thinking over the vision she had seen. How could a pair of birds, even extensions of a god, survive _that_?

"It was one of Odin's many plans for the End," Alphonse explained. "When Heimdall blew his horn, signalling the Final Battle was upon them, Odin sealed them away, his own thoughts and memories given physical form, in some kind of container. He entrusted it to Vali, one of his sons who was predicted to survive. After everything recovered from the madness, Vali opened the container and let them out." Alphonse narrowed his eyes in thought, then decided to share a theory.

"I don't think that the modern ravens are what they were before Ragnarok," he admitted. Elsa's eyes widened in surprise, but she picked up on what he meant.

"You think they changed in that time?"

"I think they became more independent. They had too, or else they would fade away or drop dead. I think that they have ... evolved, in a way, into their own unique personalities with their own take on Odin's over-all goals in life."

Elsa pondered this and accepted it, assuming Alphonse knew them well enough to be able to judge, at least more accurately than anyone else. Elsa thought over all she had learned, comparing it to all she had experienced in the days (had it really only been days?) since she had met Alphonse. Overall, it seemed to make some convoluted kind of sense.

"You said that Jormungandr was killed right, by Thor?" Alphonse nodded. "Then what exactly did we fight in the fjord?" she asked. "You said it was hatched from the World Serpent. I always thought Jormungandr was male." Alphonse paused, face blank, and burst out laughing. He laughed for a good five minutes before calming down, face red.

"Oh, wow," he gasped between heavy breaths, "I haven't laughed like that in a long time. A long time," he added. "As in ... years." He sobered up and cleared his throat. "To answer your question, you have to remember who fathered Jormungandr," he explained.

"Loki," Elsa said, a faint blush rising as she began to see where this was headed.

"Correct," he answered. "And Loki was a great shapeshifter, likely the best. He was only rivaled in that skill by Odin and Freya, and even then not by much. As such, as you've seen this very night, Loki was not constrained by shape, by gender even, as we are. As such, in addition to the fact that his children were literal monsters, I think they had some … leeway with biology."

Elsa looked away, blush deepening. Alphonse couldn't help but smile, idly thinking how pretty she looked like that. He felt his own face heat up at the thought and tried to banish that train of reasoning, only partly successful.

Elsa glanced at the clock sitting on top of the fireplace, surprised to see that they had been talking for almost an hour. Realizing with a twinge of bitterness that she needed to work in the morning, Elsa placed a hand on Alphonse's.

"Thank you," she said, for the talk and for moving past their argument. The queen had long since realized that she had a habit of remaining stuck in the past, the past having defined her life for so much of it. Alphonse had helped her shake that habit, at least in a small way. Elsa stood and pulled Alphonse up with her. Their rooms were across from each other ( _thank you Anna_ , she thought half-sarcastically) so it made sense to escort each other.

As they walked, Elsa realized something ominous that Alphonse had said almost casually. "You said 'we'," she said. Alphonse glanced at her in confusion. "When you were talking about the Scions, you said 'we' call them that. Not 'I'," she explained.

Alphonse sighed before answering. "The world is far larger than you realize, Elsa. Hugin and Munin are not the only survivors who remember those times, even before the other Residuum began to reveal themselves. Some creatures survived Ragnarok, unforeseen by the seeress who predicted it. The trolls, for example, are descended from trolls who lived in Midgard before that time. Those of us who keep in contact call ourselves 'Ashlanders'." He grinned. "Which means, I suppose, that Anna, Kristoff, and yourself have joined that small group."

Elsa wasn't sure how to take that, and so she let it pass. Eventually, they arrived at their rooms. Elsa turned to face the mage with a small smile. "Good night, Alphonse," she said, struck by a sense of deja vu.

"Good night, Elsa," he replied. Before he could leave, Elsa leaned in and kissed his cheek. She fled into her room, savoring the memory of the mage's dumbstruck expression. It was only later, after relaxing into her bed, that she wondered what had come over her.

What Elsa didn't see was Alphonse standing in the hallway for much longer than necessary, lightly rubbing where her lips had touched him as the spot seemed to burn with numbing fire. Only later would he realize that he had looked like a complete idiot, staring into the distance with a goofy smile on his face.

* * *

As Alphonse entered his own room, two black shadows fluttered away from the newly-repaired window and settled on the large oak tree in the castle garden, where the group had fought Hans mere hours before.

"We're losing him, Hugin," Munin grumbled. "He's going even more soft. Maybe we should just cut our losses," he said, regret tinging his gravely voice. They had worked so hard on him, and all for naught.

"I wouldn't say that just yet," Hugin replied, something dark in his tone. "Don't you remember the fate of Freyr?" Munin looked at him in curiosity.

"Love can be a powerful motive."

 **A thanks to all of my loyal readers for your support. This would not happen without you guys! How'd you like my explantions? Let me know, R &R!**


	14. Proximity

**Chapter Thirteen: Proximity**

The morning began fairly normally for Elsa, even with her less-than-common definition for "normal". She woke up rather early and dressed before attending breakfast. What was not-normal was Anna. Anna was in no way a morning person, but this was bad even for her. If Elsa hadn't known better, she would think Anna had gone "tavern hopping" with Kristoff again.

The princess almost literally dragged herself into the dining room, her skin sickly pale and bags under her eyes, wincing at the bright light and rubbing her head as if having a migraine. She plopped down with barely an attempt at a smile for Elsa and limited herself to coffee.

Elsa tried to keep her worrying instincts from rising. Alphonse had warned all of them that the princess and ice harvester would have a bad morning, the price to be paid for a magical shortcut, and clearly he hadn't been wrong. Elsa decided to just let the matter lie. Well, mostly.

"How's Kristoff faring?" Elsa asked, trying to keep her tone soft. Anna still cringed at the noise, rubbing her temples.

"I'm not sure if he's worse off or not. He wouldn't get out of bed this morning." Elsa had to admit she was surprised - Kristoff was usually the most hardworking man she had ever met and loved his job. He must truly be in pain to shirk his responsibilities.

As if on cue, Kristoff entered the dining room and sat down, pale as death and eyes bloodshot, but otherwise apparently fine. He gave a passable smile to Elsa before taking Anna's hand, trying to comfort her. Alphonse entered soon after and sat, eyes on Kristoff and Anna. He looked to Elsa, who shrugged, and ate his porridge.

"So how are we today?" Alphonse asked, just a bit too innocently. Anna glared at the mage, which in her current state was a fearsome sight. Alphonse twitched a brief smile as if saying "I told you so". Anna growled and simply returned to her coffee. As his grin faded and he returned to his breakfast, Alphonse regarded Kristoff, noting his less-intense symptoms. He focused and Saw the faint aura of multicolored light that seemed to hover over the man, like the northern lights. The Blessing of a Fetch.

Elsa, having noted the byplay between Alphonse and her sister, quickly finished her breakfast. "Alphonse," she said as she rose, "will you come with me, please?" Alphonse nodded and rose as well, but not before delving into his mind for a specific rune, the rune of _gift_ and _partnership_. He snapped his fingers, settling the metaphorical spell upon Kristoff and Anna, allowing the ice harvester to absorb part of her symptoms. With his unique abilities, it would be over for both of them much faster.

As Elsa led the way through the castle, she cast a glance backward, then looked to Alphonse. "So why was Kristoff doing so much better than Anna?" she asked. Alphonse quirked a smile at the question, impressed with her observation (and a little proud that she had assumed he knew the reason).

"Are you familiar with the term 'Fetch' in folklore?" he asked. Elsa thought it over and, with only the barest hollow memories, she shook her head. "There are stories," Alphonse explained, "of creatures such as elves and trolls kidnapping the children of humans and replacing them with fakes."

"Changelings," Elsa offered, familiar with those stories. Papa had frightened her with them as a little girl, though much less so after her accident with Anna.

"Got it in one," Alphonse noted. "Anyway, these legends are true, though not near as black-and-white as people think. Yes, some creatures took them for … malevolent purposes." Alphonse's eyes blazed as he spoke, and Elsa had a sudden mental image of him attacking tall, thin, pale creatures. "But not all of them. Some took children from dangerous homes, hoping to give them a better life. These children are known as Fetches." Alphonse glanced back, as if he could see Kristoff through the walls (and who's to say he couldn't?)

"I think that when Kristoff was adopted by his the trolls, Pabbie granted him the Fetch's Blessing." Alphonse paused in his monologue, as if allowing Elsa to absorb this new information about her brother-in-law. Elsa thought it over and, really, it changed nothing about how she saw Kristoff or his adopted family. In fact, such a blessing would be quite predictable from Pabbie.

"So what does this 'blessing' entail?" Elsa asked with a smile, genuinely interested and eager to learn. Alphonse hid a smile at her subtle eagerness.

"Fetches are said to be blessed with enhanced strength and stamina, as well as a natural affinity for the wild." Elsa smiled at Alphonse's words, thinking that they fit the mountaineering Kristoff to a tee. She recalled a story from Anna of Kristoff climbing a mountain with only a set of climbing hooks and a rope, all while _carrying Sven_. This blessing would explain such superhuman feat.

"I also think," Alphonse continued, "that this is what allows Kristoff to properly use Mjolnir. Even wearing a belt of strength, any man would be hard-pressed to lift that weapon, much less use it in battle."

Elsa shrugged, trusting Alphonse's theory. Her faint smile dissolved into a neutral look as they approached the door to her office. Inside lay a mound of documents that she needed to look over and approve. The queen sighed and turned to her companion to thank him for talking with her. The words died in her throat upon noticing the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"Elsa," he was back to informality, "do you have anything … particularly pressing today?" Elsa couldn't help but notice the color rising in his cheeks, the way his mouth was twitching into a smile. Curiosity piqued, she couldn't help her answer.

"Not really," she said as casually as she could. It wasn't a _total_ lie, really. Alphonse grinned and took her hand and pressed on, eventually leading her to the courtyard beyond one of the castle stables.

"Any particular reason you brought me here?" Elsa asked, half-teasingly. Alphonse glanced at her with that smirk of his and lifted his arms, hands splayed. For a moment nothing happened. And then Elsa could have sworn she saw something flicker over Alphonse's skin, like nimbus of color, red and silver shot through with lines of blue. The breeze blew harder, the mage's cloak flapping gently. Green mist rose from the ground and swirled into a funnel that dispersed to reveal his horse.

Elsa approached the steed, glancing briefly at its eight legs. The beast was one of the largest horses she had ever seen, a far cry from the small work horses that filled Arendelle. Even the thoroughbred war horses of her Guardsmen would balk when facing this animal. Its fur was an ominous grey like a rising thunderhead, its mane a deep red like cedar wood. The horse turned to regard her, allowing her to see its emerald eyes.

Elsa slowly reached for the horse's muzzle. The horse met her halfway and nuzzled her palm, eliciting a giggle from the Snow Queen. Elsa had always loved horses - she related to their natural grace and hardworking attitude. The horse stepped forward and propped its head on her shoulder, curling in like a hug. Elsa giggled and wrapped her arms around the horse's neck in a warm embrace.

"Askvader likes you," Alphonse noted with a warm smile. That in itself was rather impressive. Askvader was usually rather skittish around strangers, on a few occasions even outright hostile. The queen truly had a gift with horses. Elsa petted Askvader with a kind smile, admiring the horse's shining coat.

Alphonse cleared his throat, drawing a glance from the queen. He held out his hand, an unspoken invitation for assistance. Elsa blushed at the act of chivalry and braced herself as Alphonse lifted her by the waist onto the horse before mounting himself. He grasped the reins and let his grin return.

"Ready when you are, Elsa," he said, voice barely level.

"Well, I'm readyyyyyyyyyyyyyy-" Ela shrieked as Askvader shot forward, their surroundings blurring by. She gripped onto Alphonse and the horse slowed to a stop. Alphonse looked back with a wry grin. Elsa slapped his shoulder, heart thundering and breathing ragged from shock. Elsa stumbled down from Askvader and leaned against a tree by the water. She glanced up to see the castle across the harbor. Askvader had crossed all of that in less than a minute?

Elsa stiffened as the horse approached and nuzzled her shoulder, nickering with concern. Elsa chuckled as her nerves settled, then burst into full-on laughter. That had been incredible! That burst of impossible speed that sent them sailing over the water, adrenaline surging through her veins. Elsa may have been more reserved than Anna, but she enjoyed danger more than her sister (and the strangeness was not lost to her). Elsa turned and embraced Askvader's neck, her laughter fading to contentedness.

"So, what did you think?" Alphonse asked. Elsa narrowed her eyes in apparent thought and gestured for him to come closer. The mage hesitated, but drew nearer. As soon as he was within range, Elsa slapped him.

"That's for scaring me," she said crossly. Alphonse glowered as he rubbed his cheek, but shrugged in fairness. Before she could lose her nerve, Elsa drew in again and kissed the red mark on his cheek. "And that's for surprising me," she whispered.

Alphonse's other cheek turned red, as well as his neck. Elsa giggled at the sight of the unflappable mage blushing. Askvader whinnied, the sound almost like laughter. Alphonse turned his ire onto the horse. "Traitor," he accused. The horse shook his mane as if in agreement.

While watching the byplay between horse and man, an idea sprung to mind. "Alphonse," she asked, drawing the mage's attention, "how fast is Askvader?" The mage grinned and stroked the horse's neck.

"Very," was all he said, but it got his point across. Elsa hummed in thought and mounted, the horse grunting in surprise. Alphonse looked up at her in shock. Apparently no one had ever ridden Askvader without him. Elsa offered a hand to help him up.

"Come on," she said, "I want to show you something." Elsa could see the spark of intrigue in his eyes, one that grew into a flame of curiosity. He took her proffered hand, bringing a rosy hue to Elsa's cheekbones. He settled behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist, causing her blush to deepen. She suddenly realized that this is as close as a man had ever been to her.

Elsa looked around, getting her bearings, and gently tugged on the reins to point Askvader at the mountains. "A piece of advice," Alphonse said, "trust Askvader. He knows what he's doing." Elsa flicked the reins, and Askvader shot forward, everything blurring by.

Elsa could barely keep track of where they were, the environment indistinct. But in the saddle, she felt as if she _knew_ , without really _knowing_ , where she was, where she was going, as if Askvader himself were guiding her. She felt them coming upon a cliff face, moving too fast to stop, and Askvader shot up the rock wall without the slightest pause.

The pair climbed higher into the mountains, the grass fading to the snow of high altitude as if time were speeding past autumn and into winter, along a familiar path. Or at least, familiar to Elsa. The white blurred by and elsa tugged on the reins, Askvader sliding to a stop. Elsa glanced back at the trail they had left, a good twenty yards of flung snow.

She glanced back at Alphonse to see his expression. And he didn't disappoint - the man looked stunned, his mouth hanging slightly open. After all, it was not every day one saw a place made of crystal blue ice.

* * *

Around noon, Anna felt far better than that morning. She had the color back in her skin and her eyes were clear and bright, like the spring sun. Anna strolled with Kristoff, similarly recovered, and looked for a good place to showcase what she had learned. She probably should have waited to show Elsa and Al, but she couldn't resist the chance to show off for her husband.

The couple arrived at a large clearing up the mountain, suitable for Anna's needs. The princess noticed a huge oak tree with a limb snapped down and hanging, sap frozen in place over the hole like a scab. She motioned for Kristoff to watch and focused, just as Freya had taught her in the seemingly endless hours they had practiced.

She tapped into the flow of magic in the air, the currents of eldritch power that flowed through the earth and sky. She became a part of it - a sail pushed by the wind, a water wheel spun by the river - and harnessed that flow. She focused it, guided it, and took hold of the branch, righting it with unnatural strength. She placed her hands on the fork in the tree and wove magic to reattach it, weaving the wood fibers and getting the sap flowing. She removed her hands to reveal the entire branch blooming, the leaves growing and and acorns growing.

Kristoff watched with awe as this happened, as his wife healed a massive oak tree as if it were nothing. Anna turned to beam at him, and stumbled into his chest. Kristoff looked her over with worry, but she waved away his concerns. "Sorry. Just … tired. It'll pass in a minute." She was true to her word, and recovered quickly.

"What was that?" Kristoff asked. And he thought _his_ new skills were impressive. Compared to that, his own form of magic just seemed … destructive. Anna smiled and began to explain. Most of it flew over his head, but he caught the gist. Magic, flow of the universe, life, nature, etcetera. It sounded complicated, but Anna seemed to have it down.

"So where's the hammer?" Anna asked. She had shown him what she could do, or at least one application, and she was eager to see what he could do. Kristoff smiled and reached into his pocket. He flicked his wrist out, the hammer snapping into its proper size with a small thunderclap. Anna jumped in surprise and laughed. She hadn't seen that coming.

Kristoff lifted Mjolnir and dark clouds began to gather, summoned by his will. He mentally gripped the energy surging within those pitch-black clouds and swung down. A bolt of lightning surged down in a twisting braid of destruction and struck a large boulder sticking out of the mountain, blowing it to gravel and sand.

Anna openly stared, mouth gaping, at the hole where the boulder had been. "Woah," she whispered. Kristoff blushed at his wife's reaction, unsure if he should be proud or a little ashamed, and shrunk his hammer back to the size of an amulet and returning it to his pocket. Anna had healed that tree, had washed away injury. All he had done was cause wanton destruction.

He glanced at Anna to find her looking at him with sheer, unbridled _love_. Anna embraced him and sighed.

"No wonder they say opposites attract," she whispered. Kristoff brushed her chin, drawing her gaze up with a question in his eyes. "The Aesir were figures of battle and war; the Vanir of growth and harvest. War and nature - order and chaos. Two sides of the same coin." She cupped the side of his face, her thumb caressing his cheek. "We compliment each other, Kristoff. Then and now." She buried her face in his chest and sighed with contentment.

Kristoff kissed his wife's forehead and smiled. No matter what happened, he knew where he belonged. Right here, in her arms. And nothing, no matter how world-shaking, would ever change that.

* * *

Alphonse dismounted Askvader and took a few steps closer, marvelling at the sight before him. An entire palace made of flawless, crystalline ice. Out of habit, he began to determine what it would take to make this, using his own magic. The rune of Ice, clearly, and the rune of Property, maybe the rune of Dawn (used at daybreak) to amplify them and encourage change. And natural magic to amplify all of that.

Even with all of that, he doubted he could even come close to this magnificent structure. This was beyond him and his structured approach. This was … instinctual - fueled by imagination and heart, not just thought and will. A true result of Elsa's connection to True magic, gifted by the cosmos Itself.

As those thoughts flowed away, he began to appreciate not just its size and complexity, but its nature as a work of art. The lines of the palace were smooth and unmarred by flaws, the light of the sun shining through in an array of cool colors.

"So are you going to stare all day," Elsa asked, "or are you going to come inside?" Alphonse started and smiled sheepishly before following her inside. Upon opening the doors, Alphonse gasped in renewed awe. Somehow, it was even more amazing on the inside! The sunlight refracted through the ice walls into glittering tapestries of blues, purples, and whites, rainbows crisscrossing close to the ceiling. The entire palace twinkled like stars in the night sky.

The moment was shattered by the sound of heavy footfalls. A shadow passed over Alphonse, forcing him to look into the face of a very angry-looking snow monster. The creature looked him over and, seeming to sense his power, issued an earsplitting roar. The creature glowed, ice spikes and armor forming around it body and struck out at him. Alphonse ducked and swung his staff. Charged with raw magic, it struck the creature's arm and blasted it off. The monster roared again, louder than before, and sprouted even more spikes and fangs of ice. It struck again-

"Enough!" Elsa's shout cut through the air like a knife. Alphonse turned to her, but she was focused on the snow golem, with a look that was less anger and more motherly disappointment. The golem shifted uneasily, looking guilty as its armaments retracted. It folded its hands, looking utterly like a child in trouble. It suddenly clicked that this golem must be another of Elsa's creations.

"Marshmallow, what did I tell you about attacking guests?" Elsa asked in a scolding tone - one that sounded as if this had happened before.

"To not to," the monster, Marshmallow?, replied.

"That's right," Elsa agreed. "Now apologize." Marshmallow groaned, but turned to face Alphonse.

"I'm sorry, Mister," he said. Given any other monster, Alphonse would have warned them, in no uncertain terms, that attacking him again would lead to severe injury or death (one didn't do what he did for so long without learning that creature of strength tended to only react to force). But looking into those faintly glowing eyes, all he saw was a child. A child in a too-large body who was trying to make amends.

"It's fine," Alphonse said. 'I've had far worse." Boy, was that true. The golem nodded and looked to Elsa, who smiled proudly.

"You're a good boy, Marshmallow," she smiled, and waved her hand. Marshmallow's severed arm dissolved into a whirlwind of snowflakes and surrounded his stump, only to reform into his perfectly fixed arm. Marshmallow smiled widely and knelt to embrace his … mother, Alphonse supposed.

"Hey! What happened in here?" a high-pitched voice called. In waddled a much-smaller classical (if oddly-shaped) snowman. Alphonse had a brief remembrance of his flight with Hugin and recalled seeing a glimpse of this entity. "Hi!" the snowman called upon noticing him, "I'm Olaf, and i like warm hugs!" The snowman, Olaf, waddled up and embraced Alphonse's shins.

Alphonse, feeling a little awkward, looked up to Elsa, who looked to be stifling giggles. With a slight blush, Alphonse knelt to properly embrace the snowman. "Well, I'm Alphonse. And, I haven't had many hugs, at all." Olaf gasped as if he had admitted to being blind and deaf.

"Not anymore," the snowman said in a much calmer volume. "I'll make sure of it!" Olaf giggled and waddled over to Elsa and hugged her as well, much tighter than he had alphonse. "It's so good to see you Elsa," he said. "How're Anna and Kristoff? Oh, and Sven - can't forget Sven!"

Elsa smiled warmly and assured him that they were fine, just going through some strange changes. "What kind of strange changes?" Olaf asked, just as much a child as Marshmallow. Elsa paused and glanced to Alphonse, who simply shrugged. It was her business if she wanted to explain, not his.

Elsa began to explain what had been happening since kristoff and Anna's visit to Grand pabbie, as Olaf had come to the Ice Palace to spend time with Marshmallow after they left. Olaf and Marshmallow listened with rapt attention, as did Alphonse. To hear the events from her perspective, in her own words full of soul and passion, was rather soothing. She had quite a gift for storytelling.

"So you are the magician who saved everyone from those monsters?" Olaf asked, pointing to Alphonse. He had seen the draugr and had been ignored by them, as he was not technically living. But he had heard the stories from townsfolk and the guards, not to mention Anna, about the mysterious magic-wielding hooded man who had saved them. Alphonse felt color rise to his cheeks and nodded. Olaf laughed joyously and tackled him in another hug, followed by Marshmallow lifting him in a tight-yet-careful embrace. Unlike last time, Alphonse couldn't help but feel warmth from these two soothe him. He smiled and tried (only partly-successfully) to return their hugs.

Both snowmen let him go, and Olaf turned to regard Elsa, his lips quirked in a contemplative pooch. His eyes brightened and he grinned widely. "Hey Elsa, why don't you show Al the view from the balcony? I just remembered i need to show something I found to Marshmallow. Come on, little brother!" He took Marshmallow's finger and guided the giant, who simply shrugged, out of the palace.

Elsa sighed in contentment as she watched them leave, stepping close to Alphonse. "I know they can be a little … much," she said. "But they mean well."

"They're incredible," Alphonse said, and meant every word. He took Elsa's hands in his own, palms up. "Not surprising, since they came from these hands." Elsa blushed at the praise and looked into Alphonse's eyes, seeing only sincerity. She blushed and tore her gaze away before offering to lead him up to the balcony.

The silence between the two as they climbed was comfortable, if a little tense. At least to Elsa. She felt something between them, like the charge between a tree and a cloud before lightning struck, or the lull before a storm hit. It was … strange, and somewhere between pleasant and not. As they entered the second floor, she flicked her wrist to open the double doors and they walked onto the balcony over the entrance.

Alphonse's breath caught at the sight of the snow-capped mountains, the sun shining in the crisp mountain air and making the peaks shine white. "It's beautiful isn't it?" Elsa asked, gratified at his reaction. Three waves of awe were pretty good for one day.

"It is," Alphonse said and glanced at Elsa, who swept her gaze over the landscape. Seized by impulse, "But not as beautiful as you." Elsa turned to him with surprise, her cheeks turning red. Alphonse immediately felt regret rise within him. What was that?! Why did he say these embarrassingly sappy (even a kid raised in the woods by spectral birds knew they were just that) things to her? Why did he- wait, was she getting closer?

Elsa was steadily leaning in, and a part of Alphonse realized he was, too. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, felt warmth in his heart and unease in his gut. But it was soon washed away by the warmth as they drew closer. He felt her breath ghost over his cheeks as they drew ever closer. Elsa's eyes closed, as did his own. They were mere centimeters apart, and then their lips touched in a feather-light peck-

Alphonse lurched away as agony flared in his head and chest, like molten lead. He would have screamed if the noise wasn't strangled in his closed throat. He collapsed against the banister as burning lightning seemed to lance through his body, and images flashed through his mind. _The cave, his bloody hands, the ice-water, the ravens. All the monsters he had slain and the blood on his hands. His family, bodies splayed out-_

"Alphonse!" Elsa shouted in fear, grasping his arm and turning her to him, searching his face. Blood ran from his nose and his right eye, the gold eye, his skin burning and clammy. What was happening to him?!

"I can't-" he gasped, "I'm sorry, I can't-" He lunged over the banister and fell. Elsa shrieked and looked over, catching a raven flying away. Askvader's fearful whinny fell on deaf ears. His look of utter sorrow was burned into her memory.

Elsa felt despair wash over her and she collapsed against the rail, sobs pulsing in her chest. She felt as if her heart were being ripped into tiny pieces.

Logically, she knew she shouldn't feel this way. Who knew what Alphonse was going through? But the heart was anything but logical, and tears began to fall. Elsa collapsed into herself, curling into a little ball to try and ride out the heartbreak.

Unbeknownst to her, someone was watching. Olaf and marshmallow watched with wide eyes as their mother, their strong, smart, loving mother, battled with what she saw on some level as rejection. Olaf came to a decision and gestured for Marshmallow to comfort her. The giant golem approached and knelt to her level, and the queen latched onto him in a hug, which he returned.

Olaf wanted desperately to help his big-little brother comfort Elsa, but he had a job of his own. He turned and slid along the ice of the palace, down the stairs and out the door, and down the slopes, following his supernatural instincts.

There was someone else who would need him as much as Elsa.

 **Poor Elsa, poor Al. What do ya'll think?**


	15. Revelations

**Chapter Fourteen: Revelations**

Alphonse made it less than a mile before he couldn't stand to fly anymore. He tumbled from the sky and collapsed into the snow of the mountain in human form. The snow was dotted red with the last few tears of blood, followed by hot tears of sorrow. Heartache lanced through his very core, regret and anguish that he couldn't be there for Elsa. His fate was set in stone, carved on that day long past in the cavern with the well.

His price, the toll he had given, meant he couldn't be there for her, couldn't give what she wanted. What he _wanted_ to give to her. _Love_.

Images of Alphonse's family, of their fates, raced through him as the walls keeping the memories bound crumbled, their chains shattering.

 _Alphonse, eight years old, was returning home from the close by grove of trees, wild blackberries filling the basket he carried. He was eager to return because mother had promised to bake her special blackberry pie and had promised that he could have a slice. Sure, all of his sisters would get one too, but that didn't matter to him. It would make them happy, and him happy, so what did it matter? Everyone would be happy!_

 _As he approached their home, Alphonse smelled something burning. Was Father trying to cook again? Most men didn't cook, but Father had been trying to learn for months, with mixed results. Wait, that was wood smoke. Why would they light a fire in summer? As he rounded the bend, he got his answer._

 _Alphonse dropped his basket and screamed. The house was shattered, the burning remains scattered across the clearing! In the middle of it stood a huge man-shaped mass of mud and branches, the wood burning bright. The figure turned to reveal a mask-like face shaped as a skull, fire burning in its eyes. The thing saw him and cackled like a crackling bonfire before bounding away._

 _Alphonse rushed forward and into the broken remains of his home. "Mother! Father!" No answer. He called out for his sisters, any of them, and got the same. He looked around with fear freezing his heart. Where were they? Finally, his gaze fell on a blackened hump in the ground, one that reeked of burning meat._

 _Fear gripped him tighter as Alphonse ran forward and tore at the hump, fear giving him strength. He pulled to reveal his father, face burned and blackened, eyes lifeless. Alphonse shrieked in sorrow and stumbled back, falling onto the ground. No! I couldn't be! He looked farther to see his another lump. He rushed forward to find his mother sprawled across the ground, burns spread all over._

 _His sisters were still further. His two older sisters who had taught him everything mother and Father hadn't. His two younger sisters who had looked up to him as their big brother. All were gone, lifeless._

 _Alphonse ran back to the woods, thinking of nothing but escaping this carnage. He ran and ran until his legs burned and his lungs were searing. He collapsed onto the forest floor and wailed, sorrow and grief drowning everything out. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but eventually he ran out of tears. He would have passed out from exhaustion, but the image of his family kept him awake with fear._

 _Alphonse barely noticed a shadow over him. The monster - it had to be. "Go on," Alphonse croaked. "Do it." Nothing happened. The boy lifted his head to find nothing there. A branch creaked and he looked up to find two birds in a tree, looking down at him. Ravens? He thought._

Alphonse gasped as he cut off the memories. It had all gone downhill from there.

As Alphonse was frozen in memory, he didn't hear the soft patter of snowball feet approaching. Olaf watched as the mage wept for his family, sensing that now was not quite the time. Whatever was happening was long-since coming and it had to run its course.

Olaf sat and waited, his heart going out to Alphonse as he felt waves of the mage's grief roll over him. Many thought Olaf was not bright, even stupid, but that was far from the case. Childish, perhaps, and naive, absolutely, but also quite wise. He had been born from magic, the magic born from love, and that made him wise beyond his apparent years.

Not only that, but Olaf was not truly living, and so saw the world differently than anything else. He had a connection to Elsa, his mother, and to his aunt Anna - a spiritual link forged from the love he had been made from. He could feel what they felt, could understand their emotions and sense their presences. It was how he had found Anna locked in that study, slowly freezing from the inside out.

As Anna had slowly fallen for Kristoff, and he for her, that link had extended to him as well. The thin formative threads were how he knew without a doubt that Kristoff loved Anna, and that love had only grown and strengthened their bond. He had realized that it was his family that he could feel, their bonds of love that kept them together. It had stayed that way - until a few days ago. Olaf had felt even from a distance, the bond between them change, the thin strands of a new addition to the family.

He had followed those threads to find Alphonse.

As Olaf watched, Alphonse began to quiet down, the raw pain of grief fading to a dull ache. Olaf stood and waddled over before sitting again in front of the mage. Alphonse sat up and looked at him, his mismatched eyes hollow and dull, all signs of warmth and life drained away.

"What do you want?" he asked hoarsely with a scowl. Olaf sensed that he didn't mean to be rude, he was just exhausted and heartbroken. And confused as to why Olaf was there at all. Olaf gave a wane smile and patted Alphonse's knee.

"Why did you pull away?" he asked. Not patronizingly - he really didn't know, and he wanted to know. Olaf had sensed the pain that had raged within him, like a defense against what he had been feeling, what he had almost done. The snowman had never felt anything like it, and he was morbidly curious.

Alphonse's glare, a look that would have made monsters flee in terror, faded into quiet acceptance before Olaf's innocence. He had fought monsters and such creatures, lived in darkness for so long, that the brightness from Olaf's essence banished his anger and sorrow, leaving comforting light. If he had been more aware, he would have realized that Elsa had the same effect on him.

"It is my curse," Alphonse explained, "my sacrifice. My price for the Well." Olaf titled his head in interest, silently urging him to continue. Alphonse looked into those soulful eyes and, like with the snowman's mother, he couldn't fight the urge to tell. He began to tell his story.

* * *

Further into the mountains, a camp was set up in a crag of the peaks, the wind whipping up snow flurries and beating at the bonfire in the center, tents of animal hide surrounding it and standing resolute against the cold.

Surrounding the fire were a circle of a dozen cloaked figures, dressed in form-fitting grey dresses and staring into the flames. No one said a word, waiting for the arrival of their sister. The tentative peace was broken by two newcomers, both dressed in cloaks and one forcing the other forward.

The slimmer figure forced the larger one down and removed her hood, revealing a young woman with black hair and cold yellow-colored eyes, her skin pale as death and nails dark. "Leader," the woman greeted, referring to her superior. All of the figures removed their hoods, revealing all women with the same burning-yellow eyes. The leader, a symbol burned into her cheekbone, stood and approached.

"You found him." It was a statement, not a question. The leader had every faith in her pack. The leader looked over the form of the fool who would intrude upon their territory, shouting for her pack. She grimaced, a fierce growl emanating from her throat, and yanked back his hood.

Yellow-green eyes flicked to hers and the man grinned, or perhaps grimaced. "Hello, Hati," he said, his voice resonating with familiarity. The leader gasped and backed away. The women gathered around, all snarling defensively. The leader, Hati, waved them off and approached, wariness in every line of her body.

This redheaded man spoke her name. And his voice … it resonated within her, and the mark on her cheek twinged. The man's eyes moved up and down her body, appreciating the figure-hugging dresses they all wore. He licked his lips and grinned maliciously. That look … it, too, was achingly _familiar_.

"Who are you?" Hati demanded. The redhead laughed out loud, madness in the sound.

"Now, is that any way to treat your Forloper?" he asked. Hati's eyes widened and she stepped back as if burned. Forloper? Precursor? But he was … Her mark burned again and the old prophecy came to mind.

"Bound by a gamble, in magical chain

Our Father breaks free when blood and death rains

Vengeance on Grimnir, the Great Wolf will chase

And take it he will, from the king of their race

The worlds will collapse into a single plane

Free for the wolves to hunt and to reign

Shunned by the clans of men that will grow

To hunt as they always have done, on their own

But after a time, the Aesir will rise

New souls and new minds in familiar hides

Our Father's own father will come with a task

Our duty to serve any request that he'll ask

For on that great day our chance will arrive

For the dead gods to pay with all of their lives."

All pack leaders among their kind knew these verses, supplied to them by the father of their patron, their Forloper. As with wolves, all wolves, their memories were long. They had not forgotten the sins of the Aesir against their patron, their spiritual father, their Fadir, who had made their ancestors what they were.

And just like wolves, dark wolves, their thirst for vengeance still burned bright.

Hati waved off the her lieutenant and knelt before her Forloper, before the trickster Loki who had sired their Fadir, Fenrir.

"What would you have us do, Forloper?" she asked, bloodlust creeping into her otherwise reverent tone.

The redhead, both Loki and Hans, grinned in satisfaction. "There is a small kingdom, nestled between the mountains and the sea. Their symbol is the crocus, their ruler blessed by the stars with the power of winter." Hati nodded - she and her sisters were well aware of Arendelle and its queen. Their kind respected powerful women.

"Go there," Loki instructed, "and wreak havoc upon the reborn Aesir and Vanir. Thor and Freya … and Odin." All of the pack bristled at that name, snarling at the ghost-memory of their Fadir's oath-breaker.

The women all Shifted, taking on their dual form, the flip side of the coin to their human shapes. Wolves surrounded the bonfire and howled into the night. Their hunt had begun.

* * *

" _Poor child," one of the ravens said, "lost and alone, his family taken by an echo of evil. So sad." Alphonse felt a shiver run up his spine at that voice, like smooth honey._

" _So true," the other said, "such a tragedy. If only we had had our champion. He could have saved them." That voice was harsher, more gravelly, like the old sailors who lived in town._

 _The other bird nodded and looked down at Alphonse. "Better go bury your family, child. Wouldn't want the wolves to get at them."_

" _Not that it'll do anything worse," the other said. Both cawed and flew away. Alphonse went pale at the thought of his parents and sisters being ripped up by scavengers and took off back to the house. He made it back before anything had happened and shivered. The sun was beginning to fall toward the horizon._

 _Alphonse felt tears rise up again as he saw his family, but brushed them away and began looking for his father's spade. It was time to be strong, to do what needed to be done. Just like Father had always told him. He found the spade and began to dig, as much as he could with his tiny body._

 _As the sun reached the horizon, he had made little progress. Alphonse panted, sweat beading his brow despite the rapidly cooling air. No, he had to keep at it. Alphonse lifted the spade again, but it wouldn't come down. He looked behind him to see two old men, one holding the spade up._

" _Hey there, kid," the other one said, voice scratchy with age. "Need any help?" Alphonse shook his head. It was his family, he would do what needed to be done. He looked at the one who kept a hold on the spade. The old man, with stone-grey eyes, simply looked upon him, as if waiting for something._

" _There's nothing wrong with help, kid," the other one said. "I'm sure you pappy would be fine with it." Alphonse felt grief burn in the back of his throat, and the soreness of his muscles seemed to intensify. He nodded and let the spade go. The grey-eyed man passed it to the other, who had brown eyes, and sat with Alphonse._

" _Vidar," the old man said. Alphonse looked at him. The old man patted his chest. "Vidar," he repeated._

" _Your name?" Alphonse asked. The old man nodded._

" _Two words," the other man cackled. "That's more than I've got from him in two decades." The spade kept moving, the holes growing too fast to be natural. Alphonse dozed off, drained by shock and grief and hard labor. He awoke to Vidar patting his back. The old man gestured for him to rise, the morning sun peeking out from the mountains. Had he really slept all night?_

 _In front of the remains of the house sat six mounds of stones, wooden crosses standing behind them as markers. Vidar's friend sighed and cracked his old knuckles. "Care to say a few words, boy?" he asked._

 _Alphonse stood before the mounds and felt tears burn in his eyes, a sob caught in his throat. He was tired of crying, but his family deserved every tear. "I love you," he whispered, a single tear falling. "Goodbye." Alphonse collapsed onto his knees and dug his fingers into the grass, pain still fresh and lancing through his young heart._

 _He felt rather than saw the two old men kneel beside him. "Thank you," Alphonse said. "You didn't have to help me, but you did. Thank you."_

" _Well, now," Vidar's friend said, "it wouldn't've been decent to just let a little boy do that. Gotta be hard enough losin' 'em." The old man paused. "Vali, by the way," he said, "is my name." Alphonse nodded. Vali placed a hand on his shoulder, Vidar mirroring the action._

" _Kid, what would you do if this was about to happen to another family?" he asked. Alphonse turned to look at him with fear. But that fear dissolved into anger. No one deserved this, especially not his family. "What if you could find the monster who did it?" he continued._

 _Alphonse glared at the man, rage burning in his gut. "They'd never get the chance," the boy hissed. Vali grinned._

" _Good answer," his grin faded, "but you don't know what you're up against. You'd be dead in a heartbeat." Alphonse felt his anger fade away as he recognized the truth in those words. Sadness came rushing back in a crushing wave._

" _But we might know someone who can fix that," Vali finished. Alphonse looked up with hope in his eyes. Vali nodded to Vidar, who scooped Alphonse up and carried him like a child in his arms. Things were going to change, and change a lot._

* * *

"Vidar and Vali, I later learned, were survivors of Ragnarok, sons of Odin. They took me to the ravens I had seen, Hugin and Munin, and began teaching me. They taught me how to fight and how to live off the land. They taught me about magic and the monsters in the world. They replaced my grief with cold determination - the will to take revenge." Alphonse sighed as he got closer to what Olaf wanted to hear.

"After about a year, Hugin and Munin said I was ready to begin the path. They told me that I was a Residuum, a reborn fragment of one of the old gods. They said that to safely reclaim my full power, to be able to find and destroy the thing that took away my family, I had to follow the path that my Remnant had done before.

"So they took me to a cave and told me about the spring inside. A well that was the remains of Mimisbrunnr, or the Well of Urd; a pool that contained all the knowledge in the world. They told me I had to drink from it and start the path. But to do that, one has to pay a price."

Olaf soaked all of this in like a sponge, thoughts whirling. "What price?" Olaf asked, though part of him had an idea.

Alphonse swallowed thickly before continuing. "Odin had paid with one of his eyes," he said. "But that wasn't for me. I chose something else; something that, up until then, had only caused me pain. I thought about my family, all the warmth and joy, and a put that as my price." A single tear fell. "I sacrificed love. I gave up my right to have love."

Olaf gasped. He couldn't imagine life without love. Really, without love he wouldn't have life. He thought this over and realized something. "So, when you tried to kiss Elsa …?"

"Fate intervened," Alphonse answered. "It reminded me of my price, reminded me that I can't take back what I did." Alphonse sighed heavily and knuckled his forehead. "Elsa deserves better than me," he whispered, unaware he had spoken aloud.

Olaf stood with a resolute look and fixed his gaze on Alphonse, who was unable to look away. "That's not true," he said. "I don't know a lot, but I know this: love is the greatest thing in the world. It's what makes life worth living. And it's the only thing worth fighting for." Alphonse looked away.

"Don't give up, Alphonse," Olaf continued. "Elsa cares about you, I know it. Just like I know you care about her." Alphonse looked to the snowman with surprise, to which he just giggled. "It's a gift," he said, and Alphonse cracked a small smile. Olaf took hold of Alphonse's hand and pulled, to which Alphonse stood up and the snowman began guiding him. "Let's go back and show Elsa how you feel."

They hadn't made it a dozen steps when Olaf gasped. In their path stood the Snow Queen, her face a mask to hide her sorrow. Marshmallow loomed behind her, looking solemn as well.

Marshmallow had wrapped Elsa up in a hug and began walking, following Olaf. His little-big brother was better at comfort than him, he would know what to do. So with a stride far too smooth for his size, Marshmallow had followed with their mother. He had slowed only when they reached hearing distance, just as Alphonse had begun his story.

Elsa had heard everything.

The Snow Queen approached, a glint of determination in her eyes. Alphonse shied away and swallowed, afraid of what she might do. He had pulled away from their kiss, he had broken her heart like glass. What would she do?

She hugged him, her cheek pressed to his chest. Alphonse hesitated before wrapping his arms around her, relaxing for the first time in hours. Elsa pulled away first and cupped his cheek with a sad smile. He leaned into the contact and placed his hand over hers.

"Let's go home," Elsa said. Alphonse nodded and released a sharp whistle. In less than a minute, Askvader was there, ready to move. Alphonse helped Elsa into the saddle before moving up himself. Elsa asked Olaf if he wanted a ride, to which the snowman declined.

"I'll stay up here a little longer," he said calmly, eyes flicking between his mother and the mage. "Say hi to Anna and Kristoff for me and Marshmallow," he added. Elsa smiled and assured that she would. She braced herself against Alphonse as he flicked the reins, and they shot off with unnatural speed.

Elsa lay her head on Alphonse's shoulder as they neared the castle. Did she have a story for Anna.

 **What do you guys think about Al's story? Leave a review if you like it.**

 **For the record, my explanation for Elsa's powers is a reference to the origins planned for the movie, which were cut for time and may be explained in the upcoming sequel. Jennifer Lee explained that her powers came from an event that happens every 1,000 years that comes from an alignment of Saturn and another unspecified planet. I tried to apply that to my own unique AU. Hope this makes some kind of sense.**

 **Love y'all, hope you like it! Stay awesome!**


	16. The Art of Shapeshifting

**Slight sensuality to come. Fair warning.**

 **Chapter Fifteen: The Art of Shapeshifting**

As Kristoff approached the door to his room that he shared with Anna (or more accurately, that she shared with him), he reflected on what had happened since Elsa's return.

After finding out that Elsa hadn't been sighted in the castle since that morning, Anna had been frantic all afternoon. It had only been as evening came that the queen and her companion had returned from the mountains. Anna had been at first relieved, and then had sensed the coexisting comfort and faint tension between the two. That in itself had fully calmed her down.

The four had had dinner together, and Elsa had explained what they had experienced up in the mountains. As she recounted their almost-kiss, Anna had been furious at Alphonse for refusing to kiss her "awesome, brilliant, irresistible queen of a big sister". Alphonse, apparently unfazed, had explained why he hadn't, and in no part due to a lack of willingness.

Both Anna and Kristoff had listened with rapt attention as Alphonse finally told his own story. After he had finished, voice hoarse from holding back emotion, Anna had literally been crying as she rushed over to hug the man. Even Kristoff himself, usually uncomfortable with contact that wasn't from Anna or the trolls, had chosen to try and comfort the mage.

After the story, Anna had left to "take care of something", leaving Kristoff to explain what they had been doing all day. Elsa had smiled widely at Kristoff's regaling of Anna's powers, while Alphonse had been pleased with Kristoff's own progress. He had explained that, from now on, they would need to teach themselves, to practice and learn the extent and limits of their newfound abilities.

Kristoff sighed as he approached their door, just a little worried about Anna. She had left fairly quickly, and he was concerned that she might be sick. He opened the door to a pitch-black room and shrugged. She must be somewhere else. Kristoff closed the door, more than content to navigate in the dark, and began to undress. As he removed his vest and shirt, candles placed around the room flared to life with a comforting glow. Kristoff whirled around and his mouth fell open.

Anna sat languidly on their bed, dressed in a low cut nightgown and a coy smile on her lips. She smoothly rose and approached to placed a hand on Kristoff's chest and the other cupping the side of his face. Kristoff stared dumbly, entranced by the look in his wife's eyes. Gone was the soft twinkle of sweet innocence he usually saw. In its place was a burning, consuming glimmer.

Anna clutched the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, deep and passionate and _hungry_. She leapt up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and gripped his shoulders with vice-like strength, her kiss never wavering. If anything, it grew stronger.

Kristoff stumbled onto their bed and, without time to find his bearings, yelped as he was suddenly flipped onto his back, Anna leering down at him with a glint in her eyes that made him blush from the roots of his hair to the bottom of his chest. She caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers and chuckled, deep and husky.

"Hey, Kristoff. Whatcha thinking about?" she asked, as if she didn't already know. The mountaineer couldn't bring himself to answer and simply stared openmouthed at her. This made her giggle again and she dove in for more kisses, her hands roaming across his chest.

 _Was this a dream?_ Kristoff wondered, before he was pulled into a haze of instinct.

* * *

Alphonse, ever the early riser, sat at the breakfast table with a book on herbal medicine in one hand and a fork in the other. His eyes never left the book as he neatly cut and ate his beef and eggs, mentally correcting errors in the book and resolving to write his own using knowledge from both himself and any local medicine women he could find in town.

Alphonse glanced up at the sound of Kristoff approaching the table before returning to his book. And then making a double-take at the sight of the ice harvester. The man seemed fine at first glance, but Alphonse knew the look of a man who had only had enough sleep to barely think clearly. He himself had spent years in a near-constant such-state.

Kristoff dropped into his chair with a sigh and began serving himself. "Is everything alright?"Alphonse asked. Kristoff looked up and seemed to consider his answer slowly (or perhaps that was the tiredness).

"Yes and no?" Kristoff answered tentatively. Alphonse raised an eyebrow in question, and Kristoff sighed. He began to describe what had happened last night, trying to get his point across without getting too detailed. And not just the first round, but the second, the third, the fourth (things got hazy after that). "Even after we … finished, she was, like, _frisky_. Caressing, kissing, just …" He shivered and tried to continue.

It helped a little that Alphonse didn't change his expression through any of his explanation, simply absorbing the story with passive interest. It was only after Kristoff trailed off, unable to finish, that Alphonse broke out a wide half-grin.

"Your wife wanted to go all night and you're actually complaining?" he asked. Kristoff scowled and dug into his eggs. Alphonse chuckled and apologized, simply wanting to get the humor out of his system.

"You're right, Kristoff," he assured, "this isn't entirely natural." Kristoff's eyes widened at the observation. He hadn't even voiced that thought and the mage had guessed it anyway.

"What do you know of Freya's aspects?" Alphonse asked. Kristoff thought it over and shrugged. In all honesty, he wasn't very familiar with the old stories. Alphonse took it in stride and prepared to give one of his now-famous lectures.

"Freya was a goddess of many things. A few of the lesser-known aspects were magic, gold, war, and death." Kristoff nodded, a little paler than before at the words _war_ and _death_. "The better-known aspects," the mage continued, "were fertility, love, beauty … and feminine sexuality." He kept his gaze level, and was rewarded by a light of understanding in the ice harvester's eyes.

"I think," he continued, "that this 'incident' is a result of Anna's fusing with Freya, taking on some of her aspects. Freya, in her time, was quite … open with her desires." He paused to try and let that sink in. "She was once accused by Loki of having slept with every god, dwarf, and elf in the Nine Realms, and he probably wasn't very far off.

"Anna, however, is not like that. She is devoted to you, Kristoff, heart, body, and soul. But merging with Freya has brought out that aspect of her own self, Freya's strong libido. And, for good or for bad, she's going to focus that on you, her beloved husband." Kristoff looked away and thought all of this over. In the end, he couldn't decide whether to grin or to grimace with fear. He was a man, but he needed sleep, as well.

"If you like, I think I know a way to help moderate her new 'desires'," Alphonse offered. Kristoff actually stood from his seat, hands resting heavily on the table, to glare at him, and Alphonse lifted his hands in innocence. "Not like that," he assured, both adamant and a little angry. "Get your mind out of the gutter, no matter how long it's been there." He grinned at that last bit. "I think teaching her more magic will help moderate her 'urges'."

Before Kristoff could reply, Anna herself strutted into the room, practically glowing with innocent love. She hugged Kristoff from behind and kissed his cheek with a giggle, all traces of the vixen from the night before faded away. "Morning, honey!" she chirped and plopped down for breakfast.

For someone as not-a-morning-person as Anna, this was a relative shock.

As if on cue, Elsa strode in, pausing in surprise to find Anna having breakfast this early. "Well, someone seems happy," the queen commented. She glanced at Alphonse as he snickered, curious as to what she had missed. She noticed Kristoff's tiredness, as well. "Kristoff, are you okay?" A louder chuckle from Alphonse, badly disguised as a cough, made her even more curious.

"What happened?" she asked, tone both calm and uncompromising. Alphonse glanced at Kristoff, who was glowering at him like a poked bear.

"I think that's something for our dear prince-consort to explain," he said, smile just-too-innocent. Kristoff actually growled and fixed Alphonse with a look that, if such things could kill, would have struck him dead on the spot. Alphonse just continued smiling.

"I didn't get much sleep last night," Kristoff muttered. Alphonse actually barked a laugh and Elsa blushed at his phrasing. Anna swallowed thickly and took her husband's hand in her own, threading their fingers.

"I'm sorry, Kristoff," she said. Kristoff turned to face her, a look of near-horror on his face.

"No, Anna, don't be! I-" he hesitated, "-I liked it, I did, I just-" He cut off again, as if unsure how to continue. "It, uh, just caught me by surprise, is all," he explained. That was close enough to the truth right? Poorly concealed laughter from a certain sorcerer didn't reassure him. Even Elsa was hiding a smile behind her hand.

After a few minutes, Alphonse sobered up and explained his theory about last night's "events", before offering a saving throw. "Did you learn shapeshifting from Freya?" he asked, genuinely interested. Anna shook her head, prompting Alphonse to smile. "Want to learn?"

Anna was quiet for a solid thirty seconds before squealing with joy.

"I'll take that as a yes," Alphonse muttered. Elsa giggled at his comment, bringing a slight pinkness to the mage's cheeks. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Alphonse was bodily yanked from his chair by the arm and dragged down the hallways by his new student. He had barely gotten his balance back (three hallways later) when she changed direction and dragged him back to the dining room.

"Elsa, come and watch! I'm gonna learn to shapeshift!" the princess shouted, as if her sister hadn't been there when Alphonse offered. Elsa gave a rueful smile.

"I can't, Anna. After yesterday, I have too much work to catch up on." One could literally hear the borderline-sorrow in the queen's voice. Anna pouted, but her eyes held sadness as well.

"Okay, but I'm showing you what I can do tonight!" With that poor excuse for a warning, She grabbed Alphonse's arm again and resumed her running. Alphonse grimaced as Kristoff laughed at the scene. Why did karma always have to bite him back so soon?

* * *

In the woods close to the fjord, Alphonse tossed his cloak onto a boulder and set down his staff, his Anna-dubbed "teacher mode" taking over. He turned and faced the princess, who was all-but vibrating with excitement.

"As I'm sure you've learned by now, magic is about more than reading dusty old book in tall towers," he said with a grin. "It's about _feeling_ what you want to do, and then doing it." Alphonse, with efficiency born of years of practice, Shifted into his wolf form. "In no other way is this demonstrated better than changing your shape." He Shifted back into human form with a grin and gestured to Anna.

"Give it a shot. Try something small." Anna smirked at the implied challenge and opened herself up to magic, bringing herself into the flow of the universe. She thought briefly about what to be and decided on a cat. Cats had been sacred to Freya, so why not try something kinda-sorta familiar? She focused on the shape of a red cat, built up her magic like a river behind a dam, and let it go!

Anna felt her whole body _warp_ , like being caught in a crazy river current, and fell, landing in the grass with a heavy grunt. Anna shook her head and looked up to see Alphonse looming over her with a raised eyebrow. Wait, why was he so big? Sure, he was supposed to be, she was a cat, after all, but was he really supposed to be that big? Hang on …

"I honestly didn't expect your first shape to be _that_ small," the mage commented. Anna looked herself over and gave a high-pitched (very high-pitched) shriek. She was a rat! A rat! "You're a mouse, princess," Alphonse grinned, "not a rat. You're even smaller than a rat." Okay, a mouse. Better than a rat, but still way off!

Alphonse knelt down, his skin seeming to glow for a split-second with red and silver and a little blue, and flicked her. Anna spun and felt pins-and-needles shoot through her body before she flopped over, back to her normal self. She looked over at Alphonse with shock.

"You can shapeshift other people?" she asked. Alphonse tapped the side of his nose and stood. It was time to start practice.

* * *

 _Montage_

 _Alphonse took a breath, his arms spread wide, and Shifted into a wolf, then glanced at Anna. Anna copied his motions and took a deep breath. And Shifted into a mouse again. Wolf-Alphonse whined and placed a paw on his muzzle, before Shifting back into a man - his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose._

 _(-)_

 _Anna followed Alphonse as he ran through the woods. The mage ran along a boulder and leapt off at full speed, Shifting into an eagle. Anna fixed a hawk, one of Freya's favorite forms, into her head and leapt off. Then she fell and landed face-first in the grass. Eagle-Alphonse landed on a tree branch, screeching, and Shifted back to laugh at his student. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself._

 _Alphonse cried out as a rock hit him in the forehead and fell from the tree with a thump. He leapt to his feet and glared at Anna with a thunderous look. Anna paled, suddenly regretting her impulsive action._

 _(-)_

 _Anna screamed as Wolf-Alphonse chased her, baying like a hunting dog. Adrenaline surged within her and she instinctively reached for her magic. She felt something rise inside her and let it carry her, her body Shifting with an audible_ snap _!_

 _Anna, now a cat, ran up a tree and hissed at the wolf chasing her. Alphonse barked at her and Shifted into a huge snake to climb up the tree. Anna screeched and leapt from her perch. Without thought, she Shifted again, into a red-feathered falcon, and flew as fast as she could._

 _It took a few moments, and several hundred feet of altitude, to realize what she had done, and Anna forced herself back to human shape with a cry of exhilaration. She fell, and fell, and fell, adrenaline pumping through her system. As the ground approached, she Shifted back into a falcon (no wonder Freya had liked it so much!) and swooped over the grass before landing and changing back._

 _(-)_

 _Wolf-Alphonse ran, yelping like a whipped dog, as Anna chased him down in the shape of a huge black cat. She had read stories about Big Cats from Africa and Asia, and even heard legends of giant black cats as close as Finland; seemed like great justice._

 _Alphonse Shifted back and turned, snapping his fingers. Anna felt the pins-and-needles again and was Shifted into her old self. Alphonse glared at her and she tried to look as guilty and repentant as possible._

 _The mage grinned and headed back, leaving Anna to follow._

* * *

Elsa sighed as she read yet-another letter-of-proposal from yet-another small kingdom in the name of their available prince. This had happened quite frequently over the last two years; numerous small kingdoms, having heard of the Eternal Winter and Elsa's powers that caused it, sought to "unify their kingdoms". In other words, they wanted to get their son on the throne and have Elsa's powers as a trump card to protect what relatively little sovereign land they had.

This one had even appealed as a "fellow" small kingdom. Arendelle was actually quite large compared to these kingdoms, who had been carved out of larger sovereign nations that fell apart to rebellion or war or famine.

Elsa huffed and, in a rare fit of outward impatience, crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the lit fireplace. Her frustration seemed to burn along with the parchment, and she felt lighter. With a small smile, she wrote a note for one of her scribes to find a copy of her standard refusal and alter it to suit said small kingdom. After so many times, she had settled on a single, formulaic, easily-reproduced copy to be sent.

A soft tapping at her balcony door brought her out of the haze of boredom that came with too-large amounts of paperwork and she turned to look. Anna waved at her through the thick-glass doors and Elsa rose to open them. "Anna? How did you get up here?" she asked, both curious and a little reprimanding. It was quite a distance to climb, after all.

"Oh, you know," Anna answered off-handedly as she backed away, a roguish grin on her lips. The princess's waist hit the balcony and she fell back with a shriek. Elsa screamed and rushed to look for her sister, only to be knocked back by a blast of air as something soared past her and up. A large red falcon hovered some distance away.

"Isn't this amazing?!" the raptor shouted in Anna's voice. Elsa stared, open-mouthed, at the falcon, at her sister. Clearly, Alphonse had taught her well. She got over her surprise and scowled.

"You almost scared me to death!" the queen shouted, her anger burning hot but quickly cooling. She realized, now, that Anna hadn't been in any danger, but it was still a mean thing to do. Falcon-Anna fluttered down and Shifted back, like water flowing, with a guilty look.

"Sorry, Els-" The princess broke off with a surprised shout as a giant snowball fell on her, dousing her in icy revenge. Elsa grinned widely and quickly conjured an ice-hawk, leaping off the balcony to settle on the back of the faux-bird.

"Bet you can't beat my hawk," Elsa dared, before clicking her tongue and sending the hawk, and her, flying away. Anna stared for a moment before grinning and jumping off to Shift back. It was so on!

* * *

Alphonse, perched on the roof of the castle's highest tower, watched as the royal sisters flew towards the North Mountain, their sisterly competitiveness warming his heart. He wished, for just a moment, that he could have experienced that with his own sisters. And while the thought brought as pang of grief, the pain was far less than it would have been even a day ago.

Alphonse sighed in contentment. It was here, at this castle, and among this family that he had felt something he had thought he would never have again. He felt at home, among something like family.

As he thought these things, the wind shifted, and he caught a strange scent in the air. As with all experienced shapeshifters, Alphonse had picked up traits of his favored forms that stuck even in human shape, such as a wolf's enhanced sense of smell. Alphonse sniffed, catching the smell just a little more strongly, and wondered. The scent was familiar - where had he smelled it before?

Realization hit like a battering ram as he recalled an encounter with a pack of very specific creatures, three years previous.

 _Alphonse, in the shape of a wolf, growled at the corpse of a grown man, his chest ripped to shreds and left on the side of the road. He sniffed at the dead man, ignoring the scents of blood and death, and focused on a musky smell. He snarled as he caught the scent and began his pursuit._

 _It took hours of running, but he found the culprit. A young woman, dressed in a form-fitting robe, sat amongst a pack of wolves, her face covered in pink stains. Alphonse Shifted and slammed the butt of his staff into the dirt, a look of sheer fury marring his features._

" _I challenge you leader of this pack, daughter of Fenris, freed of pain. Come forth and face justice for the lives you have taken!" Alphonse was aware that the leader was not responsible for the murder. That would be the woman in their group, the youngest who had taken her final initiation into the pack, into their twisted form of womanhood. But the leader was responsible for the deeds of her pack, and there were rules. Rules that even_ he _had to follow._

 _From within the pack of fourteen, counting the woman, came a white wolf, larger than the rest. The wolf Shifted with audible_ snaps _and_ pops _into the form of a woman at the peak of her life, eyes heavily lidded and filled with fury. A crude marking was burned into her cheek._

" _You have no right to challenge me, Oath-breaker," the leader growled. "You trapped our patron with your deception and left him to rot. You have no standing with us." The wolves all growled and snarled in agreement before they-too Shifted into human forms._

 _Alphonse stood firm and locked eyes with the pack leader. "That was Odin, she-wolf, not me. I am Alphonse, and I claim the right of challenge. Face me on level ground, and earn redemption!" Alphonse tossed his staff aside and Shifted back into a wolf to howl in challenge._

 _The leader growled and Shifted as well. They circled each other, snarling and snapping, the pack forming a circle around them. With unspoken agreement, they charged each other-_

Alphonse hissed as a scratch across his ribs twinged at the memory. The fight had been frantic and feral, a true match against animals, but in the end he had won. He had left the pack with a dead leader, left them to scatter in grief and confusion. Many of them, he would later find, had wasted away without a figure to guide them. Others had formed packs of their own, and he had cursed himself for leaving them alive.

Alphonse sniffed again and picked up a second scent, one even less welcome than the she-wolves. It smelled of tainted woodsmoke and burning leaves, of violent stormclouds and acidic venom. Of death and madness. It was the scent of the new Loki, of Prince Hans, of whatever unholy entity they had become.

Alphonse leapt off the roof and, using a bare hunt of magic, floated to one of the balconies. He had to find Kristoff, they had to move. He had know way of knowing, and yet he did. The Maras, the she-wolves, would attack Elsa and Anna.

* * *

Anna pumped her wings, almost desperate to win the race with Elsa. The Ice Palace was in sight and rapidly growing. She closed her wings and fell through the air, picking up speed. The Palace was almost there! At the very last moment, Anna pulled up and shifted to land in the snow. With style, she reached out and almost-delicately touched the staircase with her finger. Not a split second later, Elsa's hawk landed and dissolved into icy mist.

Elsa, though not happy about losing, laughed along with her sister. The duo embraced in a hug, their mirth fading to contentment. It was joyous to be able to do things like this: to race, to laugh, to hug each other. The wounds of the past, and the scars they had left, were slowly healing.

The sisters' mirth stopped dead in its tracks at an unexpected sound: clapping. Both women turned to find an unwelcome figure some distance away, slowly clapping with a sneer on his scarred lips. Hans grinned at their twin glares, at the frost rising over Elsa's palms.

"I had missed that," he said in the higher voice of Loki, "watching Freya show her stuff. Although," he paused as if in thought, hand on his chin, "Freya tended to show _other_ things, and not just to men, either." He sneered at the last part and cackled madly, his eyes drifted slightly … lower.

Anna, face burning, covered her torso with her arms, suddenly embarrassed. Elsa stepped in front of her, icy armor spreading over her body. The Snow Queen blinked as distorted images flashed across her field of vision, but she pushed them away to focus on Hans.

"Leave, Trickster," she ordered firmly, "or die here." Die? Where had that come from? Elsa may loathe the prince-turned-Residuum, some might say despise, but she was no killer (no matter what her enemies claimed).

Hans chuckled, his voice deep again, and shook his finger, as if teaching a child. "You really think I would come to fight both of you alone?" he asked, as if it were the most foolish thing they could think. He snapped his fingers and the sisters heard growling. Shapes emerged from behind trees and rocks, revealing large wolves. And the wolves, in turn, Shifted into a group of women, armed with knives of rock and bone, and their razor-sharp nails.

"I miss my son," Hans said, back to Loki, "he was such a bright pup. Clever, even in his arrogance. It was the arrogance that had him bound, but he learned his lesson, and he was still clever. He found women who were fed up with being treated like servants by their husbands, forced to endure agony for their children. And using the magic that I taught him, he made them a deal.

"These women would be free from the pain of childbirth, free form the abuse and spite of men. They would be free, even if he could not be. They would be free and strong and take control of their own selves. And with that powerful exchange, the Maras were born. And even now, after the destruction of the world, they still roam free, ready to take revenge for the sake of their patron."

Hans/Loki looked to his side, at the leader who bore the mark. "Hati, would you care to do the honors?" he asked. Hati grinned, nothing but maliciousness in the expression.

"Sisters," she called, some of the pack turning back to wolves while the rest remained, "we hunt!" And the pack surged forward with a mindless howl.

 **For mythology buffs, I acknowledge that the Maras, a real figment of Scandinavian folklore, are not connected to Fenris in the lore. I just thought it would be really cool (and give Hans/Loki a way to command them). Also, the "montage" was inspired by the new Disney film "Moana" (those who have see it will get it). Hope it was funny.**

 **As always, thank you everyone for reading! Leave a review if you liked it or have a question (or complaint, but please no flames). Thanks, guys/gals.**


	17. When the Levee Breaks

**Chapter Sixteen: When the Levee Breaks**

Hans grinned as two of the Maras charged, howling, at the royal sisters. No matter how powerful they were, he had thirteen packs of Maras behind him. The Maras, in wolf form, charged - and were flung away in an explosion of snow.

Hans looked up into the growling face of a massive golem of ice as it rose from its protective stance, its arms uncurling from around the sisters. "Wait," he commented dryly, "didn't I already kill you?" Really, that fall would have killed anything. Then again, this thing wasn't really living, just a construct of ice given sentience by Elsa's powers. Hans grimaced; he hated to admit it, but the fight with this thing, though brief, was one of the scariest moments of his life. Possibly the closest he had ever been to death.

Hans shook off his apprehension and smiled cruelly, whistling for the Maras to stand back and unsheathing his sword. He spared a glance at the dark-grey, almost black steel of the short sword, a vine-like engraving curling down the blade. _Mistletoe_ , he thought cruelly. The weapon that had killed a god. In the grand scheme of things, this very sword had started the beginning of the End.

Modern stories told that Loki had formed an arrow of the plant itself to kill that insufferable Baldr and tricked the light-god's blind brother into killing him. Hans frowned at the distorted facts. The oldest versions, however, told of a sword named Mistilteinn that had done the deed. Hans, now Loki, grinned at the memory of possessing Hodr, Baldr's loving brother, and striking that airheaded do-gooder down with his own hands.

Hans looked up to find the golem looming above him, fury written in every line of its body. Yes, good, it remembered him. The creature roared, its eyes glowing. Plates of ice grew over its limbs like armor, spikes emerging from anything unarmored. Fang-like icicles (that seemed familiar) formed in its mouth and its fingers turned to sword-like claws. The golem, still roaring, took a swipe at Hans, who ducked into a spin and lashed out. His short sword glanced off of the monster's armor, but the damage was done.

Cracks began to form where his sword had met the monster's body. The golem backed away and seemed to focus, the cracks halting with faint blue light. Hans grinned; this thing was still vulnerable. He laughed and snapped his fingers, prompting the Maras to howl. A thick cloud of snow rose from the sound, enveloping the trickster prince and the golem.

Marshmallow tried to get his bearings, but he couldn't see. He swung blindly, hoping to get a lucky shot. No matter what, he wouldn't let this redheaded man hurt his mother again. Never again! Marshmallow took a deep breath and blew, the gust from his nonexistent lungs blowing away the lingering snow. Wait, where was the sword-man?!

Marshmallow cried out in pain that blossomed in his back. Hans grunted as he drove his sword deeper, fissures spreading from the dark blade. Marshmallow crashed forward, his body falling apart. Just as his eyes began to dim, Marshmallow coughed up a small piece of blue ice, a snowflake carved on the face. And the golem crumbled to snow.

Hans laughed out loud, victory surging in his veins. Mistletoe was a parasite, and the sword named for it, emblazoned with its likeness, was no different. It sucked away the life, the energy, of whatever it touched, leaving nothing but a dead, rotting mess behind. It rotted wood, turned stone to rubble, turned steel to rust. And it could kill gods. He had often wondered how it would affect the Snow Queen. Now was the time to find out.

Hans turned to the royal sisters. Anna had her mouth covered in horror, but Elsa … Elsa's eyes blazed with cold fury. Fires so hot that they burned cold. Deep blue ice-armor formed across her body, accentuated by an icy, faux-fur cape. The queen snapped her fingers and whirlwinds formed, coalescing into ice-wolves that snarled and snapped at their mistress's enemies.

Elsa bared her teeth, deeply-buried instincts rising up. Acting on their own, on a subconscious command from the queen, her powers formed a weapon in her hands - a deep-blue bow made of ice. On instinct, an arrow flashed into her hand. She drew back and fired in less than a heartbeat.

With unnatural reflexes, hans slashed the ice-arrow out of the air. He narrowed his eyes, considering this development. Elsa … she looked like … Hans's eyes widened in realization and he chuckled. Then he cackled. Then he laughed in mad joy, tears streaming down his face to freeze on his cheeks. _This is going to be fun_ , he thought.

Hans snapped his fingers, readying the Maras, and charged with a primal howl. Elsa growled and waved her arm, sending off the ice-wolves. She looked to Anna, who returned a glare of pure determination. The sisters braced themselves and charged.

This would end now!

* * *

 _Kristoff!_ Kristoff, dozing in the hay of the stable, shot up in a cold sweat, a mental shout still ringing in his skull. Panic raced through his body. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. Anna was in danger! He hauled himself up and froze, registering that his name was being called.

Alphonse crashed into the stable and dragged Kristoff out, speaking far too quickly to understand. Kristoff couldn't catch much, but he heard something about werewolves and Hans and Anna and Elsa being in danger. Kristoff braced his feet and jerked away.

"What do we do?" Kristoff said, voice barely below a shout. As much as he wanted to shout and scream and panic right now, that would only waste time. Time that his wife and sister may not have. Alphonse took a breath and gripped his staff, the runes glowing with faint green light.

Alphonse tossed his staff away, the length of wood spinning end over end, before it erupted into flames. The flames, green like acid, seemed to burn away at the empty air, leaving a hole in nothingness. Alphonse grabbed Kristoff again and ran for that hole in the air, dragging them both through and ... _onto the balcony of Elsa's ice palace!_

The mage stumbled against the railing, gasping for air, and Kristoff glared at the battle taking place. The ice harvester's gaze locked on Anna, surrounded by large wolves that she fought off with a whip that looked like vines. Anna moved with grace that she lacked in any other time, her whip lashing out with almost a life of its own.

Kristoff whipped Mjolnir from his coat pocket, the hammer flashing into its proper size, and vaulted over the railing with a fearsome war cry.

* * *

Anna lashed out with her whip of vines, grown from seeds she had begun carrying around, and struck one of the Maras that circled her. On instinct, both her own and inherited from Freya, she whipped around and struck at a she-wolf that had lunged at her back.

The princess winced as her leg stung, a large cut flaring up. Though her magic had stopped the bleeding, as well as partially-mended her numerous other minor injuries, the wounds were still raw. As she wrapped her whip around a she-wolf and swung the creature into a group of its fellows, Anna resolved to learn as much about healing magic as she could. Ooh, maybe an enchantment that would heal her _all the time_ , without actual thought! Would that work? She'd definitely ask.

Anna struck out again to strike a wolf and then froze at the sound of a familiar battle cry. Connected to the currents of magic, she felt thunderheads roll in, charged with lightning. And all at once, the lightning poured forth, blasting away the she-wolves that surrounded her.

Kristoff landed beside her in a burst of snow, fury written in the very way he stood. The she-wolves seemed to hesitate, some even taking a step back. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed in the pitch-black clouds above. In spite of her injuries, Anna had to grin. Who knew Kristoff had such a dramatic flair?

Kristoff shouted and threw his hammer, which struck the ground in front of a number of she-wolves, and the ground exploded. A split-second later, one launched itself at the ice harvester, but he struck it away with apparent ease. In a crack like thunder, the hammer returned to Kristoff's hand, the head crackling with lightning. He jutted it forward and lightning burst from the head, frying the rest of the Maras.

As the wolves lay broken or smoking before them, Kristoff let out a breath and fell to his knees, his body trembling. Anna knelt beside him and placed a hand on his forehead to try and find out what was wrong. Anna sighed as she realized that he was just tired. Summoning so much lightning at a moment's notice was hard for someone not used to it.

As she began to calm down, a horrifying sound made Anna's blood run cold. That sounded like Alphonse!

* * *

Elsa hurled giant spikes of ice at Hans, freezing rage in her eyes. But no matter how many she fired off, Hans struck them down, his sword smashing them apart like glass.

A flash of cold ran up her spine and Elsa stomped the ground. A wall of ice spikes burst from the snow, impaling a pair of Maras that had tried to sneak up on her. With that brief distraction gone, Elsa lifted her arms to raise a pair of ice walls to box Hans in. The mad prince sneered and slashed at the wall to his left, cracks radiating out from that cut before the wall crumbled.

Elsa tried to breathe evenly, realizing that her temper was getting the best of her. Hans was many things, few of them good, but he was far from foolish. She needed to devise a strategy to win; one that involved more than conjuring ice spikes to throw at him.

Before Elsa could think, ominous rumbling caught her attention. She looked up to find black thunderheads rolling in, tongues of lightning crackling from inside. _Kristoff_ , Elsa thought wryly. At least she knew now that Anna was safe. She was shocked to hear Hans cry out, the sound resonating with fury and his face as red as his hair. It would have been comical if he wasn't so dangerous.

"It's over, Hans!" Alphonse strode toward them to Elsa's right, the bodies of dead Maras scattered around him. Hans growled, his face even redder, and charged at the queen with an insane shout, sword flashing. Faster than thought, Elsa formed a spear of ice and swung upward to meet his strike. Just as he met Elsa's staff, Hans faded away into mist and his sword fell to the snow.

Before Elsa could wonder what had happened, she gasped as pain exploded in her back. "ELSA!" Alphonse shouted rushing toward them. Elsa gasped as she fell, Hans looming over her with a bloodstained dagger in his hand. "One down," he whispered. Alphonse's animalistic cry made him look up as the mage crashed into him.

Alphonse saw only red as he wrestled with Hans, pinning him against the ground with his legs. Berserker fury, one of the aspects of Odin, raged through his veins as he struck at the prince with all of his might, his fists cracking bone and splitting skin. All the while he howled like a wounded animal, fury and fear burning inside like a bonfire.

Finally, the fury left him. He panted like a dog as his hands began to ache, the knuckles cracked and bleeding. Hans face and chest were covered in blood, many of his teeth missing. And even after all of that, the prince grinned. He snapped his fingers and Alphonse was blown away by a burst of wind.

Alphonse sat up and stared as Hans stood, his skin beginning to change, to turn chalky and pale and to tear like thin paper. Hans took hold of the skin of his face and _pulled_ , revealing only unblemished flesh beneath. His teeth were returned and his injuries gone as he removed the rest of the chalky covering, even his clothes in place.

"Serpents," Hans spat. "I have my problems with them, but they really are such _fascinating_ creatures, yes?" Hans sneered. "Better check on Elsa. She's not looking too good." With a mocking salute, Hans Shifted into a falcon and flew away, the few remaining Maras fleeing with him.

That threat gone, Alphonse moved to Elsa. He paled at the sight of the snow dyed crimson, Elsa's stomach covered in a casing of ice to stop the bleeding. Elsa was breathing heavily, almost gasping. Alphonse took her hand in his and tried to remember anything he could about healing. He took hold of magic and searched out the wound, cringing at the feel of it. Elsa was losing blood fast, her liver punctured. Alphonse tried to weave his magic, to stop the bleeding and grow new tissue. But healing was not his strongpoint. Alphonse felt tears come to his eyes as he realized there was little he could do.

Elsa tried to smile, to reassure her new friend, though it came out more as a grimace. The sharp pain had faded to more of a throbbing ache. Frankly, she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. She squeezed Alphonse's hands, trying to draw strength from his presence.

"Elsa!" In a flash, Anna was kneeling before her, Kristoff not far behind. Anna took hold of Elsa's other hand, glowing with magic. The princess's eyes turned solid white as she sent tendrils of magic to examine her sister, trying to understand all that was wrong. Her eyes still milky-white, Anna looked down to her sister.

"This is gonna hurt," she warned, and released her magic. The energy raced through Elsa's arm and down her chest to concentrate on her lower torso. The queen bit back a groan as she felt it forcibly closing the hole in her body, stitching together the flesh and sealing it with ethereal fire. Her temperature rose, her skin burning with fever. And as quickly as it had come, Anna let it fade away.

Elsa sighed as she felt no pain. Alphonse shook off his surprise as he placed a palm on the queen's forehead to examine Anna's work. He felt a livid scar where the puncture had been, but everything had been repaired with surprising efficiency. The mage looked up to Anna and nodded grimly. As far as he could tell, Elsa would be fine. Weak for some time as she fully recovered, but she _would_ fully recover.

As Alphonse examined Elsa, Anna removed a large piece of blue ice from her dress, something she had recovered during the mad rush over here. "Elsa?" Anna asked, showing her the carving. Elsa smiled tiredly and waved her hand, her magic swirling around the piece as it glowed with a faint light. The carving rose and was enveloped in a soft blizzard that settled into the massive shape of Marshmallow. The snow golem smiled at his mother and knelt to brush her hair with surprisingly gentle fingers.

Alphonse quirked a quick grin that was swallowed by exhaustion. He lifted his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle, the sound laced with a tendril of magic. An echoing whinny answreed and green mist rose from the snow to reveal Askvader. Alphonse and Kristoff lifted Elsa, as gingerly as they could, onto the horse's back before Anna followed, then Kristoff. Alphonse simply Shifted into an eagle to follow.

Before they left, the instant before he changed, Kristoff could have sworn he saw a tear fall down Alphonse's cheek. Before he could ask why, he had Shifted and taken off. Askvader's ungodly speed snatched any further thoughts from Kristoff's mind, drowned out by sheer mortal terror.

* * *

After a good hour of flight, Hans settled in front of a large cottage that sat on an island off of Arendelle's coast. The owner had had an unfortunate "accident" (cough, cough) and Hans had taken possession of it to live in until he claimed the Castle of Arendelle.

Hans Shifted back to his human form and sighed in contentment, happy to have his magic back. It had been a close thing; Odin's Residuum had almost killed him. But all that adrenaline, plus the force of _two_ minds hammering at the weakened, cracking binding against his power had been enough to shatter his constraints. His magic was back!

Hans, now Loki, cackled at the thought of Alphonse. Sure, the man was powerful, but he was a mockery of the raw, terrifying presence that Odin had been! Odin had been powerful, crafty, manipulative, and determined; but more than that, he had had something about him that charged obstacles in his path and tore them down, as if nothing in all of the Nine Realms could stop him. He had been fearless, his tenacity and force of will stronger than anything that the cosmos could throw at him.

Alphonse was not that. Yes, he was strong, but he was also conflicted, plagued by sorrow and self-loathing that Odin would never have tolerated in himself. The Residuum had yet to even taken up the Sacrifice, the Great Trial, yet. Whether it was fear or determination to hold onto his current self, neither Loki nor Hans could be sure. But whatever it was that held him back, Alphonse was clearly a cheap imitation of his Remnant.

All-in-all, Hans thought as he noticed the first of his Maras returning with supernatural speed, that was a good thing for them. Odin had been an unstappable force when at his weakest. The fact that Alphonse was not even close to that allowed them an advantage. Even so, Loki couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

It seemed his blood-brother really was gone for good, washed away in the river of time.

* * *

Back at the castle, the royal physician had given a much more thorough diagnosis of the queen and had come to the same conclusion as Alphonse: the queen would fully recover; she just needed rest. After the royal sisters thanked the kindly old man, Anna turned her attention back to Elsa.

"You had something you wanted to show me?" Elsa asked. Anna nodded, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she prepared to Shift. Their was the usual faint _snap_ as the change took effect, but nothing seemed to have actually changed. At least until she opened her eyes, revealing the slit pupils and wide irises of a cat.

Elsa stifled an instinctive shriek at the feline eyes gazing at her from her sister's face. Anna laughed and screwed her eyes shut and opening them back to what they were before. "Cool, huh?" she asked, almost demanded. "I thought of it on the way to the Palace and didn't get a chance to try before-" she gestured at Elsa's torso, "-all this. And, like that, I can see in the dark!" Mischief glinted in Anna's eyes as she held up her hands.

With another _snap_ , three inch claws sprung from her fingertips in place of her nails. Elsa actually felt quite proud that she didn't squeal again, though the sight was still just a little disturbing. "Wish I'd thought of this during the fight," Anna commented before returning her hands to normal. The princess then cycled through a small number of "partial-Shifts", from the eyes of a falcon that allowed to to see further and clearer, to the ears of a cat that enhanced her hearing. Elsa laughed at each one, her surprise melting away at her loveable sister's antics.

As the sisters bonded, neither noticed Alphonse watching them from outside the window. The mage tried to smile at the heartwarming scene before his sorrow and self-loathing returned and he led go of the sides of the window to plummet. He Shifted into a raven to settle in one of the garden's trees and returned to human form to gaze at the rising moon and consider the battle that had just occurred.

To him, it was fairly obvious what had happened: he had failed. Not only had Hans (or was it Loki now?) gotten away, but Elsa had been hurt, brought to the point of death. If it hadn't been for Anna and her raw talent for healing with magic, Elsa would have _died_.

Alphonse grimaced at the thought, his pragmatic nature preventing him from denying the truth. His own carelessness, his arrogance, had led to Elsa very-nearly dying. Thoughts such as ' _If I had only been faster, stronger_ ' and ' _If I had sealed Hans tighter_ ' festered in his mind. Alphonse gripped the branch he was sitting on, his knuckles turning white, as he felt rage at Hans and at himself burn within his stomach. If he had only been stronger-!

"She would have been safe," a smooth voice finished. On instinct, Alphonse lashed out at the source of the voice, startling hugin into a higher branch.

"Get out of here, Hugin!" Alphonse seethed, standing on the branch as he grasped another for balance, "I don't have time for your mind games!" The raven looked down on him and sighed, almost sympathetically.

"Maybe not," Munin answered as he settled next to his partner, "but you know it is the truth. Your beloved Snow Queen would be a cold corpse now, if not for her sister. You were outright _useless_ tonight."

Alphonse grit his teeth at the accusation, ever fiber of his being straining to deny it, but the truth rang in Munin's words. What had he done, really? He had taken Kristoff to the North Mountain (destroying his staff in the process) and beaten a few she-wolves, but that was it. He had done next to nothing. The mage leaned back against the trunk as he felt his self-hatred rise up again.

Just like with his family, he had been useless. And Elsa had just barely avoided ending up like them. Could he do nothing right?!

As he cursed himself, hugin flutter closer, his beak in the man's ear. "You could have been stronger," he whispered. At any other time, Alphonse would have brushed both the words and the raven away. But he was far from his right mind, now, and the implications settled in. There was a way.

"Loki will only get stronger from here," Hugin pointed out. "If you wish to protect her, you know what you must do." The raven flew away into the night, leaving their ward to consider the seeds that they had planted. As the moon passed overhead and began to fall, Alphonse came to a decision. He stood and turned to face the mountains, Shifting into a eagle and taking off.

There was only one way to protect Elsa.

 **Sorry about the long wait, guys. Hope this makes up for it.**

 **As always, leave a review, let me know how I'm doing and what you like/dislike. They keep me motivated.**


	18. To Swing From the Noose

**Chapter Seventeen: To Swing from the Noose**

 _Deep in the Dreamscape, Anna marveled at the flowers blooming in the trees, the air heady with their scents. The princess turned at the sound of faint purring to find a golden cat with green eyes watching her from a large rock. The cat seemed to smirk and winked, still purring._

 _"Freya?" Anna asked. The cat rippled and anna blushed with a squeak at the sight of her very-naked mentor sitting supported by her arms on the rock, completely unashamed of the assets she seemed to flaunt by simply lounging there. The goddess's eyes seemed to glitter as she Shifted back to a cat and leapt off the rock. The cat looked back at her and meowed before bounding away. Assuming that she was supposed to follow, Anna ran to catch up._

 _Anna ran for she-didn't-want-to-know-how-long before the cat stopped before the maw of a fissure in the earth. The cat leapt down onto a ledge within that opened up to the mouth of a cave. Anna followed and Freya led her into the cave. After a few minutes of walking in darkness (weird swaying darkness like everything else in the Dream) light appeared up ahead._

 _Anna and the cat entered a cavern lit by cracks in the ceiling that let in beams of sunlight. The sunlight and water that dripped from the cracks, it seemed, had nurtured a thin tree that twisted and filled the cavern, its branches splaying out across the ceiling. The only thin not thin about it was the huge knot in the center of the trunk. And in that knot sat a rusty sword, only the pommel gleaming in the beams of light._

 _The cat jumped into the trees branches and Shifted into the thankfully (if barely) clothed Freya, who simply looked at her with expectation. Anna looked from her mentor to the sword and took a deep breath. Clearly, this sword was real, or at least was real in the real world._

 _Anna reached for the sword, something inside telling her that this was right. She almost had it when cold crept into her veins. The Dream seemed to darken, like a cloud passing over the sun, and the cavern crumbled away to be replaced by the open branches of a massive tree._

 _Anna shrieked as she lost her balance, grabbing onto a vine to keep from falling. Anna looked around as the biting wind made the branches sway like waves on the sea. Jeez, how big was this tree?! The branch she was standing on was wider than the bridge that led to the castle, even as it swayed in the wind. The vine she was holding was thicker than her wrist._

 _Anna looked up at the barely-higher mountains, the light of dawn just beginning to emerge. A sharp snap caught her attention and she looked up to find a male figure cloaked in shadow in the tallest branches, a spear of wood poised over his head. The figure jumped, fell, and jolted to a halt. Anna screamed-_

Anna sat up hard enough to fall off the bed, her still-going scream cut off with a grunt of pain. Elsa rose as well, looking down at her sister in concern. Had she stayed the whole night? "Anna, what's wrong?" the queen asked.

Anna stood, magically lighting the candles in the room, and swallowed thickly. "I think Alphonse is in trouble," she said.

* * *

In a hidden valley in the mountains, the man himself sat on a large branch, fingers working tirelessly as he wove strands of thin vines into an elaborate rope. Finally, the rope was long enough. Alphonse broke off a long, thin branch from the Scion and began looping the rope around himself, particularly across the shoulders and neck.

Alphonse finished his work and sat crouched on the branch, waiting. As the first rays of dawn emerged from behind the mountains, the most powerful time for change and transformation, he took a deep breath … and jumped. In a second the rope snapped taut, and he used that momentum to swing the spear-like branch into his side.

Alphonse tried not to scream, but it _hurt_. The loops around his shoulders kept the rope from snapping his neck, but they were still painful as the put pressure on his shoulders, nearly dislocating them. The rope tightened around his neck, cutting off his air as he gasped for oxygen. And the metaphorical spear in his side wasn't exactly pleasant, either. That branch, a clipping from a Scion of the World Tree, would keep him alive; but only just barely.

It was time to ride the gallow. To learn what Odin had learned.

* * *

Elsa tore through the castle in a literal whirlwind of snow, ice forming in her footsteps. Anna raced after her, part of her bemused at the fact that she was chasing Elsa for once, but the rest concerned for her sister and her friend. "Elsa, what are you doing?" she asked breathlessly. "You still need rest!"

Anna arrived at Elsa's room just as the queen emerged, fully dressed and clutching a sheet of parchment. She was staring at the paper as if it could tell her where Alphonse was. A quick look over Elsa's shoulder revealed a rough sketch of the world dotted with clover-looking shapes. What was-? Wait, was that Alphonse's handwriting?

The paper froze over in Elsa's frustration and she threw it at the wall. Elsa backed away, her anxiety rising as she thought about what Anna had told her about her dream. Elsa knew the stories - she knew exactly what Alphonse was doing. And she had a fair idea what vile birds had talked him into it. But how could she find him and stop him? The lands of Arendelle and its neighbors had the thickest concentration of Scions after Prussia and the Germanic lands. How could she-?

Elsa squeaked as she was swung around by the shoulders to lock eyes with her sister. "Elsa, calm down," Anna said, her lips tinged with blue. That detail snapped Elsa back to reality - the reality of snowflakes suspended in frigid air. Elsa placed a hand on Anna's, drawing strength from her presence, and dissolved the ice around them.

"Well, now that that's cleared up," Anna said, "I think it's time we find Alphonse." Anna sat on Elsa's bed, dragging down Elsa to sit with her, and closed her eyes. Elsa watched with awe as Anna's skin began to oh-so-faintly glow. Then she felt her stomach lurch and her skin crawl, as if she were sliding out of her own flesh. A moment later and she realized she had.

 _Elsa was staring at herself and Anna meditating on her bed, while a ghostly version of Anna in an off-the-shoulder dress floated beside her, clutching her wrist. Elsa looked down to find herself clad in her snow dress, like the one she had conjured during her flight to the North Mountain._

 _Ghost-Anna brushed her shoulder and pointed at something strange: a shimmering thread of light that circled Elsa and flew out the window toward the mountains and into an ominous cloud. Anna grasped the thread and surged forward, dragging Elsa with her._

 _The sisters, in their spirit forms, flew at lightning speed up and through the mountains to settle in the branches of a huge tree dancing in the wind of a summer storm. No, "huge" was too small a word. This tree was enormous (and even that didn't do it justice). Anna shook her again and pointed high up into the branches at a dark lump hanging from them, dancing on the crushing winds._

 _The sisters floated forward to find- Elsa would have shrieked if she could. Alphonse hung from the branch, tied in a rope of woven vines. His chest fluttered as if he were fighting for every shallow breath, his skin was pale as the snow around them, blood dribbled from his eyes and nose and blue lips._

 _And from the side of his torso sprouted a long branch that dripped blood, held in place by his iron grip. The mage coughed faintly and wretched with a hoarse gasp, clearly in unbelievable agony. Elsa floated toward him and tried to touch him, but Anna held her back. Oh right, they weren't really here._

 _Anna shrugged and shook her head before pointing up. Circling above them was a pair of black flecks. Oh. The ravens were keeping watch over him, making sure nothing went wrong. As if on cue, they darted down through the storm-winds and toward them with ear-splitting cries._

 _Elsa felt Anna drag them back, the scenery rush by in a long blur, they reentered their bodies-_

Elsa fell off the bed with an ungraceful thud, groaning as every part of her felt sore. Her eyes fluttered open to see Anna, who had fared much better, preparing to lift her up. The pained smile on her sister's face spoke volumes. Anna was frightened for their friend and trying, at the same time, to reassure Elsa that he would be okay.

But she was wrong. There was every chance in the world that this would turn out everything but okay. Elsa's gaze hardened and she stood, looking into Anna's eyes with all of the royal and sisterly authority she could muster. "Anna, stay here. If Hans finds out about this, he might attack Arendelle while both Alphonse and I are out of commission. If that happens, you and Kristoff have to protect our people." The queen raced through the castle and to the closest balcony. She conjured an ice-hawk and mounted, the faux-bird ready to fly at her mistress's slightest command.

Before she could take off, Anna grabbed her wrist. "What are you gonna do?" the princess asked. Elsa turned to look at her sister, steely ice in her gaze.

"I'm going to save him," she said. It was not a plan. It was a promise.

Elsa clicked her tongue and the hawk shot away, headed for the storm, for the Scion where Alphonse hung.

* * *

As dawn melded into the morning, Hans sat on the shore of his little island home, spinning shapes out of the mist while he waited. He had been waiting since dawn, and he would wait even long should it be necessary. The battle between his Maras and the Residuum had shown him that brute force wasn't going to win him Arendelle's throne. Before he took that kingdom as his own, he needed to weaken its defenses.

Hans felt a tingling sensation crawl over his skin, a sign that a monster (for lack of a better term) was near. Finally, he thought as he dispelled the elaborate knife he had formed. He swept his green gaze across the waters that surrounded his new home, searching for the subtle ripples that would herald his "guest". He didn't wait long.

From the water rose a thin, handsome man with hair so dark it seemed to shine a faint blue hanging over his face like a curtain, his eyes a deep muddy brown and skin so pale it seemed he had died. The smirk that Hans knew would usually be there was gone, replaced by a thin line of ire.

"I commend any man who tames the she-wolves," he commented in a dry, raspy voice, "but my respect for that only goes so far. Why have you summoned me, mortal, in this," he gestured to the seawater, "ghastly, salty mire." The figure, a Nokken, crossed his arms over his chest with a faint pout. Hans grinned and his eyes shifted color.

"Now is that really how you greet an old patron, Little Spelemann?" Loki asked. The Nokken's eyes widened in surprise at the title, his skin turning a faint blue in his kind's form of paling in fear. He composed himself and gave a slight bow.

"I had no idea you had returned, Silver-tongue," he noted. Loki grinned and returned to Hans.

"I have a request, Bornemann," Hans began, using the Nokken's true name. Using such was a term of respect if he had said it first, but also a veiled threat if he hadn't; monsters were picky about their names. That was one reason Odin had been so feared and respected: he knew every creature's name. "And I assure you, you will get much out of it."

Bornemann narrowed his eyes in thought, searching Han's gaze. Loki had been known as a magnificent liar, possibly the best ever, but the Nokken could sense a sort of honesty about his words. And he had to admit to himself, he was intrigued. Pickings had been slim, of late; perhaps this reborn god was offering help.

"What request would that be, Silver-tongue?" he asked with a faint smile.

* * *

 _Alphonse tried to concentrate, to move past the agony wracking through him, but it was a lost cause. Everything that he was was hurting, from the tips of his fingers and toes to his core to his very soul._

 _The jolt of the rope had been bad, but the constant pressure had long-since dislocated his shoulders, even if that had saved his neck, and his every movement made the pain flare up again. And with the wind whipping in this fearsome tempest, he was swung around like a ragdoll._

 _For who-knows how long, Alphonse had been gasping for air. The rope was tied tight and still had pressure from gravity and the winds. It left him just enough slack to not suffocate, but his core was tensed as he danced that thin line. He couldn't even get enough air to properly groan, no matter how his body wished to let out this pain, even for an instant._

 _Alphonse's skin was blue with cold, his body unable to divert blood to heat his skin. His limbs were cramped and had fallen asleep, the constant swaying feeling like fire ants crawling through his insides. His head pounded from the noose around his neck cutting off blood flow._

 _And of course, all of that was like a flickering candle beside the pain in his side from his makeshift spear clutched in his deadened hands, the one thing that had actually kept him alive. The life-like magic of the Scion formed a current of his life force; absorbing it, flaring it, returning it. The spear was possibly the worst part, even as it was the only reason he was still alive. Wait, was he still alive? Yes, or else the pain would be gone._

 _And through it all, Alphonse forced his eyes to stay open, even through the sting of the wind and red tears, to gaze into the branches of the Scion and into the depths below. Odin had hung for nine days and nights to learn the deeper secrets of the runes, to learn his fabled charms. Alphonse had no idea how long he had been hanging._

 _One odd aspect of the Scions was that Time seemed to flow differently around them. Yggdrasill had been a cosmic metaphor for the flow of Time, the shift of day to night, the changing of the seasons, the flow of life throughout the Nine Realms. The World Tree's Scions had inherited the barest hint of that aspect. Around them Time itself held little meaning. It slowed to a crawl in these branches, while moving normally outside._

 _All of this passed in a fevered haze through Alphonse's mind, his higher thoughts beaten and broken by the onslaught of suffering. The only thing that kept him sane was a single image. He thought of Elsa: her sapphire eyes, her platinum hair, her kind smile and gentle laugh. The smallest things that acted as an anchor of his sanity._

 _What he didn't hear, his senses closed off from the world by his haze, was the cawing of vexed birds._

* * *

As Elsa approached the whirling clouds that hid the Scion, that hid Alphonse, she prepared herself for what may come. Hugin and Munin would be waiting for her - that much she knew. Not only that, but the nature of the Tree itself might be fighting against her. Elsa gathered every shred of the eldritch power that danced beneath her skin. Now was not a time for control, it was a time for release. For the second time in her life it was time to Let IT GO!

The clouds enveloped her, the winds trying to knock her hawk from the sky, and Elsa screamed. Raw, pure, clear. And in a burst of blue-white light the winds stopped in their tracks, suspended by her own powers. Snowflakes hung in the air as if Time itself had stopped, her own hawk's movements halted.

Elsa searched the branches that surrounded her for Alphonse, finally settling on a high branch. A small dark lump hung from that thin branch, gently swaying in the non-winds. Elsa snapped her fingers, stirring her mount, and darted for the prone figure. As she drew closer, a piercing shriek cut through the air, balking her hawk.

A pair of black birds rose from beyond Alphonse, rapidly drawing in. Birds that made her own mount look like a newborn chick. Okay, I did not see that coming, Elsa thought. The queen drew on her power, the magic acting intuitively, and formed a blue longbow of flexible ice. She plucked a strand of hair and a sliver of magic took that too, enchanting it into a bowstring and lashing it into place. Elsa breathed, focusing the storm inside her, and brought the bow up to draw. Through sheer muscle memory, she drew back, an arrow of crystal-blue ice forming to full-draw.

Elsa aimed for a split second. And she fired. The arrow lanced out, but fell before it hit a bird. The instant she released, her hawk darted forward. The arrow sliced through the rope holding Alphonse up and the sorcerer fell. Branches slowed him down as Elsa dived for him, arm outstretched. As he neared the ground, Elsa caught up and grabbed him, holding him close as her hawk pulled out of its dive and flew them to safety.

Elsa focused on their destination, her Ice Palace of in the distance, trying with everything she had not to look at Alphonse until they got there, even as she clutched him to her like a lifeline. The that unearthly cry echoed across the sky again. Elsa sighed and settled Alphonse onto the back of her ice-hawk, gently lashing him to it with strands of steel-hard ice.

Elsa shifted around and lifted her bow, two arrows of ice nocked as she drew back. She focused on the massive ravens approaching, harnessing her powers. The arrows began to glow with unearthly light, then to shine like beacons. She drew a half-breath and fired, her arrows lancing out to strike each bird in the chest. A split second of no effect, and then the birds began to howl, and to change.

Ice spread across the massive ravens, hoarfrost coating them from the inside out. With a final screech, the ice covered their heads and the birds fell, fell, fell to shatter against the face of the mountain. Elsa turned away and silently ordered her mount to land, wherever it could. The faux-hawk settled into an icy cliff shadowed by pine trees and Elsa took him down.

The mage settled, Elsa finally took a true look at him - and had to bite back a gasp. Alphonse was paler than death itself, his lips bluer than her ice dress. His eyes and nose were leaking blood, his nails were stained black, veins along his neck the same. The queen removed his shirt to reveal blackened veins all along his body. His neck was circled by a harsh scar from the rough fibers of the rope.

But worst of all was the branch in his side. The wound was raw and red, barely avoiding true infection. Blood oozed from the wound in a thin line. And worst of all, the branch itself seemed to pulse with some unearthly energy.

Elsa placed her fingers against Alphonse's neck and waited. And waited. Elsa's eyes widened in panic. He had no pulse! Shoving down her fear, Elsa placed her palms on his chest and pressed, just as she had been taught. Three times, and check - nothing. Again - no change. One more time - still no pulse.

Elsa grimaced as her heart began to break. Part of her denied the evidence, almost desperate for Alphonse to be alive. But Elsa was an intellectual, her mind rooted in reason. She knew the truth. Alphonse, her hero, was dead.

Pain lanced through Elsa's heart, seeming to spread through her veins to every crevice of her being. It was like losing her parents again. It was like watching Anna's frozen body protect her from Hans. And yet it was different. Alphonse was different then them, her feelings for him were … different.

Tears finally fell as she realized the truth. Elsa had fallen for this wandering mage. His determination, his understanding, his protectiveness, she had fallen in love with him. And now he was gone …

Elsa held Alphonse's face in her hands and sobbed, her very soul seeming to crack as she pressed her forehead to his. She didn't know how long she stayed there. It didn't matter. Elsa swallowed thickly, her tears spent and placed a gentle peck against Alphonse's lips. Goodbye, she thought, and embraced him tighter.

* * *

 _In a grey void, a young man opened his eyes, deep blue eyes, and lifted his head. Even as he looked down, the void changed, grey grass appearing underneath him. It was neither soft nor brittle; it simply was. He looked up to see grey clouds, neither still nor soupy; they simply were._

 _The young man ,who couldn't remember his name, stood up, suddenly clothed in a grey shirt and pants, his feet remaining bare. Where was he? Who was he? He didn't remember anything except … a woman. Pale hair, blue eyes, kind smile. The image melted away into nothingness, but he still knew. There was a woman._

 _"You're a long way from home, boy," said a voice. The young man spun around to find he was not alone. Before him stood a tall figure with broad shoulders, deep wrinkles covering his face and arms. And yet, everything about him radiated strength. He was dressed like the young man, aside from a faded blue cloak and a broad-brimmed hat, his eye covered with a worn black patch._

 _"We only have a little time," he said. The old man lifted a broad hand, the palm faintly glowing, and the young man clutched his head. Faint whispers echoed in his ears, whispers of secrets he could not understand. The old man drew closer and touched the young man's chest._

 _"Be free," he said, and there was the sound of chains snapping. The young man screamed in pain, but his cry faded into a faint sigh as warmth enveloped him and pushed the pain away. He touched his lips as they seemed to tingle. Light enveloped him, a swirl of red and blue._

 _Then there was nothing. Nothing but warmth._

* * *

As Anna and Kristoff sat together, hands woven together as they waited for elsa to return, they felt something. Something that seemed to wash over them in a faint wave. Something warm and soft and familiar. What was that?

Hans was polishing his sword when he felt it. The sensation made him jump, his chair falling as he stood. No, it couldn't be!

* * *

As Elsa sobbed into Alphonse's chest, her hand clutching his shirt, she felt something warm cover it. Her sobbing faded and she opened her eyes to see Alphonse's hand covering her own. She looked over his face, brushing hair from his brow, and he took a strong, shuddering breath.

Alphonse coughed and his eyes fluttered open. "Elsa?" he asked.

"Alphonse?" Elsa sobbed. He coughed again and cleared his throat.

"Did I ever mention I like strong women," he whispered with a grin. Elsa laughed, tears once again falling, and crushed him in a hug, which he returned as strongly as he could. Elsa pulled back and they looked into each other's eyes. They drew closer and their lips brushed.

No interruptions, no destiny, no monsters interrupted. Both had their first kiss, and warmth enveloped them. They pulled apart and- smack! "Ow!" Alphonse cried, "What was that for?!" Elsa jammed an accusing finger at him.

"Never do something like that again!" the queen demanded, stunning the mage into silence.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. Elsa's scowl melted into a relieved smile and she clutched him closer to her, an action he was all-too-happy to mirror. Wrapped in each other, there was no demigod sorcerer. There was no Snow Queen of Arendelle.

There was only a man and a woman who had been through Hell and found each other.

 **"Spelemann" is Norwegian for "fiddler". The Nokken's name comes from a famous Norwegian violinist named Ole Bornemann Bull. "Spelemann" is Norwegian for "fiddler".**

 **Hope you guys like it! I've been looking forward to this chapter since I started! And it's still far from over!**

 **Comments and reviews are more than appreciated. Thanks guys and gals!**


	19. Identities

**Chapter Eighteen: Identities**

Far from Arendelle, a full week by ship, there sat the small island kingdom of Corona, ruled over by the beloved King Frederic and Queen Arianna, as well as the much-loved Princess Rapunzel and Prince-Consort Eugene Fitzherbert. The kingdom was peaceful this morning as Rapunzel and Eugene finished their morning walk through the town. The couple did this at least once a week, keeping in touch with their people that they would one day rule over.

As the couple returned to the castle, the peace was shattered by a loud commotion some distance away, the sounds of shouting echoing from the guardhouse. Rapunzel darted toward it, Eugene not far behind and both paused at the sight before them. A group of guards were surrounding a middle-aged man with their frying pans out, several other guards splayed across the ground.

One of the standing guards lunged at the man from behind, but the intruder spun around and knocked the man clean out with a cane and a faint crunching noise. "Must I ask again?!" the man spoke, not shouting but his voice carrying. "Take me to Eugene Fitzherbert. I must speak with him. The very world may depend on it!" Another guard lunged for the man, who gracefully spun out of the way and knocked him out with a single punch.

"Stand down!" Rapunzel shouted. Even if this man was a threat, the guards were clearly no match for him. With only token hesitation, the guards backed away from the man, who had stiffened at the sound of her voice. He turned to face Rapunzel, his expression almost awe-struck.

The man was clearly old, somewhere between middle aged and elderly. His hair was almost uniformly grey, with only a few strands of black, and reached to his shoulders, all held back by a woven leather headband. His face was quite wrinkled, but still regal, with an aquiline nose. But it was his eyes that were most striking, a pale, almost white grey all through, which could only mean …

"Are you blind?" Rapunzel asked, unaware that she had asked the question aloud. The man smiled and nodded.

"And you must be Princess Rapunzel," he said, his expression fading back to calm seriousness. "Your majesty, I realize that this is unorthodox, but I must speak with you and your husband. You are the cousin of the queen of Arendelle, yes?" Rapunzel's eyes widened at the sudden change in topic and she nodded before realizing he couldn't see that.

"Yes," she confirmed. The man nodded as if to himself.

"I take it that this," he gestured at Eugene without turning his head, "is Eugene?" Eugene narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.

"Yeah, that's me. And since you're not calling me 'Flynn' I doubt you're one of the people that has a grudge against me. So what do you want with me?" The man chuckled at Eugene's words before gathering himself.

"Grudge? I could never have a grudge against the son of my dear brother," he responded. Eugene took a step back, his face pale as a ghost as he stared at the stranger with wide eyes.

"What did you say?" he whispered. The man nodded solemnly, both hands on the handle of his cane.

"You heard correctly, Eugene," he said. "I am your uncle." No one spoke for several minutes, not even the guards. Rapunzel had approached Eugene and placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to give even a small hint of comfort to her visibly-shaken husband. As the silence stretched on, Rapunzel looked closely at the man before them.

With an artist's eye for detail, Rapunzel took in his appearance and tried to correct for age. Moving past the wrinkles and grey hair, not to mention the featureless eyes, she had to admit that the man greatly favored her husband. And even past that, she had a feeling in her gut that this man was telling the heartfelt truth.

"Who are you?" Rapunzel asked, hoping the man would understand her real meaning. The man, Eugene's uncle, closed his eyes with a heavy sigh.

"That is a very long story, princess. One that is almost impossible to believe. But I swear to you that it is true. You must believe me, for your cousins from the north depend on it." The man hissed and clutched his chest, coughing haggardly. "Please," he bit out, "I do not have much time." As he spoke, strands of his hair visibly turned white, like frost growing over the ground. "Is there anywhere we can speak privately, or even with your parents?"

Rapunzel glanced at Eugene, who still seemed shaken, and placed a hand on the older man's shoulder to guide him along. "What is your name?" Rapunzel asked. The man lasted a few hallways, the guards following them, before answering.

"My name is Hodr," he said.

* * *

In the king's study, Frederic held the missive from his niece, Elsa, that described the bizarre happenings around Arendelle. It had only been the king's stalwart respect for Elsa's intellect (as well as the testimony from his daughter about the Eternal Winter and his own experience with the supernatural) that kept him from completely dismissing the apparent tall-tale.

Dearest Uncle Frederic,

Before I begin, please realize I have the utmost respect for you, Aunt Arianna, and Rapunzel. Knowing that, I humbly ask that you accept that what I write about is in every way true, and not just the fantasies of a young woman with a crown.

I suppose I should start from the beginning.

The lore of my homeland, of Aunt Arianna's homeland, describes an entity called a "draugr", a corpse of a man reanimated by a twisted force of will and malevolent magic, whether natural or artificial. These creatures perform acts that they strived for in life, such as vengeance upon enemies or guarding treasure.

Three days ago, Anna was attacked by one such monster in the halls of our very home. Anna was saved by the intervention of a large wolf that then fled the castle and into the night. I realize this may seem fanciful, but in all honestly it only gets stranger.

The night after, as Anna, Kristoff and I explored the marketplace, a ramshackle army of the nightmares arrived. They ignored our people, thank heaven, and pursued only Anna and myself. Despite the bravery and skill of my Guardsmen, as well as my own power, their unearthly strength and great numbers almost overwhelmed us.

And yet, once again, we were saved by a guardian angel. A young man arrived and, through powerful magic, destroyed the army of undead before fleeing Arendelle on a horse conjured from mist. Anna herself believed that this magician and the wolf that had saved her were one and the same, and I could not shake the feeling that she was right.

The next morning, I sent Anna and Kristoff to discuss the matter with the trolls who live in the mountains. (I believe Rapunzel has told you about Kristoff's adoptive family.) As I waited for their return, I was visited by none other than the mage himself. His name is Alphonse, and he pledged his aide in this matter, claiming the works of a dark sorcerer as the source of our troubles.

Of course, I didn't take his word at face value (though I sensed no treachery). It was only after Anna and Kristoff returned that I began to believe. Grand Pabbie, a powerful shaman and leader of the trolls, had already spoken to Alphonse and advised us to trust him.

I write this missive the morning after Alphonse's arrival. I sincerely hope that whatever misfortune that plagues my kingdom has not spread to yours.

Dearest love and greatest regards,

Queen Elsa of Arendelle

As he finished rereading the letter, Frederic narrowed his eyes at their "guest", the man who called himself "Hodr" and claimed to be Eugene's uncle. Examining the man, Frederic had to acknowledge the similarity between the two. But the story he had given them was perhaps even more fantastical than what Elsa had written about.

Hodr had told them of the time of Northern myth, of the Aesir and Vanir, the jotun and monsters, and of the cataclysmic Ragnarok. Frederic was a learned man, quite familiar with the stories of his beloved wife's homeland. Hodr had claimed to be the very same Hodr from the legends, the blind brother of Baldr who had been tricked by Loki into killing the fair god.

Hodr had gone on to explain that the Aesir and Vanir, the gods of old, were re-emerging in new human forms, fragments of their essence being reborn as humans. According to him, the Alphonse from Elsa's letter was the "Residuum" of Odin who roamed the earth slaying monsters. He went on to claim that his neice Anna was the reborn Freya and her husband Thor's rebirth.

And most troubling of all, on that front, was that the infamous Hans Westergard was the reincarnation of Loki, driven half-mad by Loki's influence and striving for the throne of Arendelle and the death of his nieces. He was the dark sorcerer that plagued Arendelle, the draugr his pawns and his schemes only beginning.

But the icing on the cake was what Hodr said about his Rapunzel and Eugene. According to him, Rapunzel was one of these "Residuum", though he had yet to claim of whom. And to up the stakes, he claimed that his brother, the so-called Baldr, was Eugene's father who had died after conceiving Eugene.

"I realize that this is difficult to believe," Hodr said calmly, "but I assure you it is the truth. And I believe that missive from the Snow Queen," he pointed at the letter in Fredric's hands, "only encourages my tale." How was this man blind, again?

Both Arianna and Rapunzel had stayed respectfully quiet during Hodr's tale, even as Rapunzel visibly had to keep her mouth closed to prevent questions flying out. But before she could ask, Eugene beat her to it.

"If I'm your nephew," he said, his tone showing that he had yet to accept this turn of events, "why am I just learning about this? Where were you during my time in the orphanage, or even during the past few years?" Hodr sighed heavily at the question, turning to face Eugene.

"I believe I should start from the beginning. After Ragnarok transpired and your father and I rose from Helheim, we had originally planned to try and rebuild what had been destroyed. But upon seeing, upon feeling, the clean slate of the world, we knew it would be best to simply let it come to be on its own. Baldr and I faded into the background and allowed the remains of the races, of men and elves and dwarves, to create their own home free from the machinations of our kind. We still helped where we could or when we felt it necessary, but for the most part we kept to ourselves.

"All of that changed nearly thirty years ago, when Baldr met a young woman. I never learned her name, nor the circumstances of their meeting, but Baldr fell for her and she for him. My brother would spend much time with her and on the third year of their time together, you were conceived.

"What my brother had failed to tell me was that he had passed his essence, his power, on to you, leaving him to fade away into a shadow of himself. He lasted a number of months before he died of old age, his life force given up so that you would live. I eventually determined what had happened and I tried to find you.

"But your mother had died in childbirth and you were sent to an orphanage. Not knowing who your mother was, I could only do so much to find you. It has only been in the past few years, when you stayed in one place, that I have been able to Dream about your home and find you." Hodr finished his story, tears streaming down his cheeks. Despite his clear attempts to stay angry, Eugene's features had softened considerably and he even seemed to believe his supposed uncle.

Hodr coughed again, his hair turning even further white. This had been happening throughout his story, and his hair was nearly free of gray, his face more wrinkled than ever.

"Please, Eugene, I don't have much time. You must believe me, for the royals of Arendelle need you and S-Rapunzel." Everyone caught the slip-up in his speech, especially Rapunzel.

"S-s-s-what?" she asked. "Who was I before?" Out of all of them, Rapunzel had been by far the most accepting of this tale, no doubt thanks to her childhood seeped in magic. Hodr gave a faint smile and passed his hand over Rapunzel.

The princess began to glow, an after-image of soft light surrounding her. The image looked like Rapunzel, with a rounder face and darker skin, her hair blond and reaching her ankles and her eyes silvery-blue. She was dressed in a white-and-gold dress that left her arms bare, her forearms and hands wrapped in leather bindings like a charioteer. And just as fast as it had appeared, the image faded away.

"It is good to see you again, Sunna," Hodr smiled. The old man's hair faded to full white and his wrinkles deepened. "My final time has come," he sighed, turning to Eugene. "It is time I passed on to you your birthright, my nephew."

Hodr placed a hand on Eugene's shoulder and the other on his forehead. Light seemed to shimmer over Eugene like ripples on a pond. Hodr rapidly began to age, his limbs thinning and his hair falling out, his skin weathering like old parchment. Hodr collapsed against his nephew, his breathing ragged.

"Goodbye, my nephew. And good luck." And with that, Hodr breathed his last in his nephew's arms. The color leached from the old man and he faded into dust. All that remained was a small leatherbound notebook, Eugene's name carved into the cover.

Eugene picked up the notebook and flipped through it, revealing a bizarre looping scribble-like script. And even as he looked upon it, the loops and whorls seemed to click into place, their meaning clear to him as if it were written in plain script. The ex-thief flipped to a map of local Scions, skimming over the description of what they were, and his thoughts turned over to Hodr's report on the state of Arendelle.

Eugene stood and looked to his wife, his gaze communicating far more than mere words ever could. Rapunzel nodded with a grim smile.

"I think it's time to check up on my cousins," Rapunzel said.

* * *

Anna kept her breathing even as she held her hands, shimmering with green-gold light, over Alphonse, her eyes glowing as she Saw into his injuries. The princess swallowed against the bile rising in her throat at the Sight of his wounds, both physical and metaphysical.

To anyone else, they would only see the deep burn-scar around his neck and the gaping, now only-barely bleeding wound in his side. That was bad enough to make an average person retch, and had actually made a serving man faint. But beneath the surface, in the supernatural side of it all, it was much, much worse. The wounds, the groove and the puncture, pulsed with an eerie burning glow that contrasted his natural aura.

Anna steeled herself and examined further, trying to gauge the apparent age of the wounds. Something felt off about it. Alphonse could only have been hanging a few hours, but these wounds seemed days old. Frankly, she had no idea how he was still alive (not that she was an expert in this kind of thing). And the wounds seemed to resist her efforts to close them, to make them better. It was like Alphonse's body were fighting against her magic. But she powered on and did what she could, practically forcing his wounds to close and partially-mend. At least now he won't bleed to death, Anna thought grimly as she wrapped his wounds in bandages.

As Anna returned to her normal vision, she glanced up at her sister. Elsa's eyes were still red from crying and she clutched Alphonse's hand like a vice, her entire body seeming tense at the sight of his labored breathing and ashen complexion. And as much as she respected and admired Alphonse, Anna could help the flare of anger that smoldered in her gut at the sight of Elsa looking so scared for him; especially over something he had done to himself!

Alphonse hissed in pain as he tried to rise, but both sisters held him down by the shoulders. "I really hope it was worth it," Anna growled. Now that she thought about it, especially as mad as she was, it seemed like Alphonse couldn't do something amazing without almost dying. How had he lasted so long fighting monsters if this was always how it ended?

Alphonse's eyes fluttered open and he looked at Anna, his gaze heavy with pain. "That's debatable," he bit out through gritted teeth. "I didn't want to worry any of you, but this was something I had to do. And for the record, I did get something out of it." The side of his mouth twitched in the briefest of grins. "I learned half of Odin's charms."

Anna looked up as Elsa gave a faint gasp, covering her mouth in awe. Elsa may know what that meant, but anna didn't. And anyway- "Half?" she asked. "You went through all of this and you didn't even get the full set? What a ripoff!" Elsa and Alphonse both chuckled at the outspoken woman, though the mage's chuckles devolved into pained coughing.

"Well, I only hung for half the time Odin did," he explained.

"How is that possible?" Elsa asked, somehow both gently and with immovable force. "The poetry says that he hung for nine days. You were only hanging since this morning. How could you have hung long enough to learn anything?"

Alphonse took a shuddering breath before answering, explaining the strange effect that the Scions of Yggdrasil had on Time. As he spoke, a myriad of emotions flitted over the sisters' faces, everything from awe to horror. As he finished his short lesson, briefly reflecting on how often he had been giving speeches lately, Anna glanced down at his wounds, bandaged up and seemingly ordinary.

"So, what charms did you learn?" Elsa asked, voicing the question Anna had been unsure how to ask. Alphonse huffed a laugh and hissed in discomfort.

"I don't know exactly which, so far. I know that I was able to pick nine out of the set, but it will take time for me to adjust. It's like …" he was silent for a moment as he mulled over his words, "like a pond settling after boulders were tossed in. They'll come to me one at a time, probably over the next few days." He grinned. "But I do know the first one for me."

What happened next, neither sister could have explained. Alphonse lips were moving, but the sound that escaped was like the buzzing of wasps, the hissing of serpents, and the rumble of an avalanche all together. Alphonse gasped and his eyes flashed with blue light, and he settled back into his bed.

"I know the name of every Ashlander creature creature in this world; every entity descended from the aftermath of Ragnarok. Every eld, dwarf, troll …" he glanced at them both before his gaze settled on Elsa. "And every Residuum." Anna paled and looked up at her sister, finding a frightening mix of horror and disbelief on her sister's usually-calm face.

Both knew, without having to ask, what he meant.

"It can't be," Elsa whispered. "I- I can't-" The queen looked down as Alphonse grasped her hand, his gaze a mix of guilt, admiration, and … holy skylights, was that actual love?

"Who?" a voice asked, prompting all three to turn and find Kristoff leaning against the wall. "Who was Elsa before all …" he gestured around, as if meaning the world, "this?"

Alphonse sat up, the royal sisters too stunned to stop him, and gave a heavy sigh. "The original Snow Queen. The fearsome Skadi, goddess of winter, mountains, and bowhunting."

At the mage's words, Elsa thought back on everything that had happened since the first draugr attack. Those sudden surges in confidence, the armor and war-garb wrought from frost and snow, muddled flashes of memories - the bow of ice and her unthinking skill. It all made a warped sort of sense. She glanced at Alphonse as an important question came to mind.

"Is there anyone else we know like this?" she asked. Alphonse gave a faint grin and held up his hand, his fingers counting down. As if on some supernatural cue, Kai entered the infirmary, his countenance the firm air of business.

"Your majesties and honored company," he addressed the latter to Alphonse, "Princess Rapunzel and Prince-Consort Eugene have arrived at our doorstep. And they wish to speak to you." His gaze swept over the group before adding, "All of you."

All of the royals glanced at each other, communication beyond words flitting between them. This couldn't be a coincidence, especially since Alphonse had quite literally counted it down. Elsa stood from the bed, her expression the calm reservation of royal business. "Bring them in," she said, her tone aloof. Anna grinned. Elsa may uphold that icy queenly demeanor now, but that would drop as soon as Rapunzel entered the room. If there was anyone who could compete with Anna when it came to defrosting her sister, it was good-old cousin Rapunzel.

* * *

As the day wound down, one of the guards, fresh off his shift, watched as the Coronan princess and consort entered the castle, the doors to the castle proper closing with a muted boom. The guardsman gazed over the town of Arendelle, eyes narrowed at the apparent peace. The town may appear still, but he knew that the people were buzzing about like ants in a crushed hill.

Their queen, God bless her, was remarkable forthcoming for a monarch (the guardsman would know; he had lived in four countries in his youth before returning home) and had been vocal about the dangers that threatened them. But she had assured the people that she, as well as her sorcerous guest, would do everything in their power to protect them.

The people were not exactly afraid, they trusted their queen too much for that. But they were not ignorant of the dangers, nor were they under any false allusions about the queen. The people of the Northern countries, such as Arendelle, were a practical and down-to-earth kind. They knew that the queen and the sorcerer (the people had taken to calling him the Queen's Champion) were only two people, albeit with extraordinary powers.

And Hans, curse that wayward prince, had at least one army at his beck and call.

Though they were trying to keep life working like normal, the people were preparing for whatever may happen. Invasion, natural disaster (hint, hint: giant sea serpent), direct attack by Hans; whatever it was, the people were determined to be prepared as much as possible.

The guardsman's thoughts, roaming and changing on his walk to his home, were interrupted by an unusual sensation that seemed to wash over him. He shivered and looked around, gripping his halberd in surprise. What on earth was that? Seized with curiosity, the guardsman followed the sensation to the edge of town, senses sharp and body tense.

As he began to climb the mountain that faced the town, the guard was finally able to determine what the sensation was: music. Violin music, beautiful and ethereal, wafted through the air. It grew strong as he approached, and the thought never crossed his mind about how he had been able to sense it from the town proper, or that no one else seemed to hear it.

Finally, the guardsman pushed aside some vines to find the source of the music sitting on the bank of a large mountain stream, the rumble of a waterfall a backdrop to the melody. The violinist was pale and thin, his hair shaggy. His face was as serene as could be, though, as he worked his instrument with almost magical grace. The guardsman felt tears streaming down his cheeks at the mournful tune.

After who-knows how long, the man's music came to an end. The guardsmen felt himself drawn forward, pleas for him to resume on the tip of his tongue. But then the violinist looked at him, a malevolent gleam in his eye. The guardsman shivered and then realized that he was up to his waist in the water, drawn forward by the beauty of the music.

He cried out as the violinist grabbed him by the throat and fell, dragging him down. The water churned as he struggled, and then went still, red rising in a stain on the water to be washed away by the current. A few moments later, the guardsman's body rose to the surface, carried along towards the town. And in his lower rib cage sat a gaping hole, his liver gone.

Further up the stream, back underneath the waterfall, Bornemann emerged from the water, utterly dry and a vicious smirk marring his features. He licked his lips and sat back on the bank, quickly tuning his violin with the skill of immeasurable practice. Oh yes, Loki's deal had started out quite satisfactory.

With that thought, he positioned his fiddle and began to play again. That man, large and strong, had only been the beginning. His fingers began moving, and his music wafted over the town. And somewhere in Arendelle, another guardsman was being led to his doom.

 **How'd ya'll like Hodr. I'm taking inspiration from the scholarly theory that both Baldr and Hodr were more war-like figures than people think. Heck, an old (very old) version of "Baldr's Death" portrays he and Hodr as opposing warlords who dueled for the hand of the goddess Nanna. Baldr was invulnerable from eating magical food and Hodr had traveled to the underworld to get a magic sword to bypass that power. Hodr won, but was avenged by Baldr's champion.**

 **Hodr's skills were partly inspired by Daredevil (with the blindness, I couldn't help myself)**

 **What do ya'll think of the revelations here (I know, kind of identity-reveal heavy, but I have my reasons). Check out Odin's charms online (in the poem "Havamal" or interpreted in Neil Gaiman's "American Gods". More will come in time.**

 **FYI, the tune I imagine the nokken playing is a violin cover for "Dearly Beloved" of Kingdom Hearts. It is a mournfully beautiful tune that is well-suited to the violin. Taylor Davis of YouTube has an excellent cover, ya'll should check it out.**


	20. Reunion

**Chapter Nineteen: Reunion**

Alphonse clapped his hands to his ears in an attempt to ward off the most mind-shredding sound he had ever heard. Finally, he knew of a sound more awful than Hugin's lecturing or the screams of panicking crowds. Somehow, it was the shriek of ecstatic girl-friends. Seriously, he thought with his eyes screwed shut, how can we even still hear something this high-pitched?

Said women, Anna and the Coronan princess Rapunzel, were competing as to who could crush each other tighter. Kristoff and the Coronan consort (Eugene, he thought) had simply bumped fists, apparently unaffected by their wives squeals of joy. Both women broke apart at Elsa's approach, but the Snow Queen quickly melted into the joyous reunion (though, thankfully, at a much lower volume). Alphonse quickly checked his ear for blood and thankfully found none.

With a quick check to make sure Elsa was distracted, the mage tried to stand from his infirmary bed. He yelped as he was forced back down by said queen, a steely look in her eyes almost daring him to disobey. With his cheeks tinted pink (both in embarrassment and just a little reverence), Alphonse settled back against the pillows. His embarrassment only grew at the sight of Anna and Rapunzel trying, and utterly failing, to mask their giggles. Eugene mimed a whip cracking, complete with sound effect. Alphonse may have been raised in the woods by supernatural birds, but even he knew what that meant.

"Alphonse," Elsa said, tone just-too-innocent, "this is Princess Rapunzel of Corona and her husband, Eugene Fitzherbert." Rapunzel waved with a beaming smile and Eugene also waved, though much more subtly.

"So is this the sorcerer you wrote about?" Rapunzel asked, tactful as always. Even with Elsa's nod of confirmation, the lost-and-found princess had a little trouble seeing it. Maybe if he was standing and dressed in the cloak like Elsa had described (her letter had been far less formal and far more descriptive than the copy sent to Fredric) instead of laying in a hospital bed?

As if reading her mind, Alphonse lifted a hand, the air above it flaring with blue fire that disappeared as he closed his fingers. But more than that, the look in his eyes spoke of eldritch power and unflinching determination, not to mention the cold of Elsa's hardest ice. Yep, now she could see it.

Even as Rapunzel and Eugene examined him, he was doing the same to them. Their names echoed in the back of his mind, flaring on the list of Residuum, elves, dwarves, trolls, and countless other entities that seemed to be repeating on an endless loop in those dark depths. And not only their real names, but whom they had been Before. He focused, covering his blue eye, and Saw them. The goddess Sunna and a distorted form of Baldr, like looking through a sheet of choppy water.

"So how'd you guys get here?" Anna asked. Rapunzel and Eugene's smiles faded into matching masks of solemnity as they glanced at each other, their gazes speaking volumes. Eugene sighed and held up a hand, as if beckoning his wife forward. Rapunzel cleared her throat and looked at all of them in turn.

"It's ... kind of a long story," she began.

* * *

It was a long story.

Anna had covered her mouth at the part of Hodr's death, while Elsa and Kristoff wore matching expressions of focus, eyes narrowed and faces revealing nothing. Alphonse felt a flash of sorrow at the passing of Hodr (he was, after all, a son of Odin) and began to compose exactly how he would explain all of this.

Alphonse wasn't a fool. He had heard rumors (and experienced more than one Dream) of the Coronan princess gifted with sun-magic, a form of cosmic magic similar to and yet very different from Elsa's. He snickered inside at Fate's sense of humor, given who her Remnant was.

"So you two are like us?" Anna asked. At Rapunzel's nod of confirmation, Anna squealed again and embraced her cousin. Alphonse, having somehow seen this coming (maybe he was finally adjusting to Anna's special form of crazy) had preemptively covered his ears again.

"So who's your Other?" Anna asked. Rapunzel hesitated before answering.

"I think Hodr called me-"

"Sunna," Alphonse finished. "Or Sol, to some. The dwarves called her 'Dvallin's deluder', the elves called her 'lovely wheel', and the jotun called her 'everglow'. To gods she was 'sunshine' and to Aesir she was 'all-shining'. And to men, she was simply 'the sun'." Wow, he thought idly, when they say "all names of all the gods", they weren't kidding. He had barely realized he was speaking!

"Okay," Eugene said dryly, "that explains that." Alphonse's reply was a level gaze, one that had Eugene shifting a little after a few moments. The mage snickered in success before continuing.

"In the Time Before, Sunna was literally the sun, a powerful goddess that rode above the Nine Realms to bring light, heat, and life to them. She and her brother, Mani, were pursued by Fenrir's oldest sons, Hati and Skoll, who strove to eat them. They would, eventually, during Ragnarok. But not before Sunna gave birth to a daughter," he pointed out the window to the setting sun, "who would take up the mantle for After the End."

Rapunzel, after a moment of stunned silence (she wasn't used to Alphonse's exposition speeches) started to giggle, which devolved into outright laughter. After a few moments, she sobered up and explained.

"I would be the rebirth of the sun," she said, gesturing to her chocolate-brown locks. Eugene chuckled and ran his fingers through her hair, adoration in his gaze. Rapunzel leaned into the contact, then her eyes widened as if she had a crazy idea. She looked down at Alphonse and approached, placing a hand on the side of his neck and the other on his stomach, and began to sing.

"Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine," her palms began to shine with golden light, her hair turning golden-blonde, "make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates' design," Alphonse felt warmth filling his wounds, soothing the pain away, "save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine. What once was mine~" Her voice seemed to grow richer with that last drawn-out note, and her hair returned to its previous state.

Alphonse removed her hands and tore (or more accurately, magically burned) off the bandages surrounding his neck. He lunged for a mirror and checked for the ragged gash, finding only a smooth, thin scar. Removing the bandages from around his stomach revealed a faint, circular scar where his other wound had been.

Alphonse stood and felt no pain, then collapsed to the floor with a grunt. Anna rushed to help him, but he waved her off. "I'm fine, just-" he gave a faint hiss, "pin and needles." Alphonse stamped his foot, grimacing all the while, and shook it off.

"You can still heal people?" Anna asked/demanded, whirling back to Rapunzel. The princess only shrugged.

"Don't ask me. I thought my powers were lost when my hair was cut."

"Not lost," Alphonse corrected, "dormant. The power was always inside you; your hair was just the most convenient way to channel it." At the group's blank looks, Alphonse chuckled and pressed on. "When you were born, your body had to find a way to rid itself of the excess magic that built up in your body, which it found in your hair. Your hair looked blonde because of the continual release of sun magic.

"As you grew up, your body adjusted, but your hair continued to act as a conduit. When it was cut, that conduit was severed and your magic was fully internalized. You just needed the right push to get it flowing again." He gestured at himself, at his new scars.

Before anyone could respond, a guardsman burst through the door, panting as if he had run all the way there and a frightened look in his eyes. "Your majesty," he addressed Elsa, "please come with me. Something has happened that my captain believes you should see."

* * *

Elsa stared at the body that lay before her, only the tenseness of her jaw betraying the anxiety and fury that warred beneath the surface. Anna and Rapunzel were openly horrified at the pale corpse, a gaping hole in its lower chest. Eugene held his wife close, his fingers opening and closing in a nervous habit, while Kristoff did the same with Anna, eye faintly twitching. Only Alphonse seemed unaffected as the physician elaborated on the body's condition with cool professionalism.

"The guardsmen found the body earlier this evening, and several more just like it. He, and the others, appear to have died from blood loss rather than drowning - not surprising given the, uh …" he gestured at the hole. "His ribcage was shattered, but all of his remaining organs are intact. The only thing missing was his-"

"Liver," Alphonse said at the same time. The doctor looked at him in surprise.

"How did you know?" he asked. Alphonse closed his fingers in suppressed fury, the knuckles audibly popping.

"Because I have a feeling I know what did this." He approached the corpse and lifted it head. "But just to be sure …" Alphonse began whispering in that strange, incomprehensible way and his eyes flashed. Not a heartbeat later, the corpse stiffened and drew a rattling breath, its eyes blue and gold to match the mage's. Everyone in the room drew back, Rapunzel actually squeaking in surprise.

"Who are you?" the corpse asked in a harsh whisper. "Where am I? I saw a bright light and I felt something grab me and pull me down." The corpse gasped in mortal terror. "Is this … hell?" Alphonse chuckled reassuringly.

"No, it's not hell. You'll be back on your way soon enough. I just need to ask a few questions." The corpse looked around unseeingly and sighed before nodding. "What do you last remember?" The corpse didn't hesitate.

"I was walking home after my shift at the castle when I heard something strange. It drew me into the woods and I realized it was music. Beautiful, enchanting music. I eventually came to the edge of the river and found a skinny young man playing a violin. Next thing I knew, I was weeping waist-deep in the river. The man grabbed me and dragged me down - I fought and thrashed, I felt my chest burst and burn with pain, and then the currents drew me away. I grew weaker and weaker, and …" The corpse looked at Alphonse with frightened eyes, lips trembling.

"Don't worry," Alphonse soothed, "I will find the thing that did this and make sure it never happens again." Alphonse asked his name and about his family, to which the corpse answered and begged for someone to look after his wife. Alphonse assured him that Elsa would take care of them. He placed his hand over the corpse's eyes and smoothed his eyes shut. A look of peace enveloped the undead man and he fell back down, once again completely dead.

Alphonse straightened and glanced at the group before him, all their mouths open in shock.

"When did you learn to do that?" Kristoff asked. Though his solemn expression never wavered, Alphonse could feel his cheeks turning red. Maybe he should have asked for privacy before doing that.

"Just now. One of the charms manifested. The skill to speak to the dead and learn their secrets." Alphonse cleared his throat and strode toward the door. "Now, if you will all excuse me, I have a job to do and a Nokken to catch."

* * *

Alphonse stood over his bed, organizing the tools he would need for this. He had "taken care of" a few Nokkens in his time and knew exactly what he needed. As he glanced over his small collection of knives, he felt a mix of nausea and gratification. Part of him loved killing these rouge Ashlanders, removing the monsters that would harm humans and the environment around them. Another part felt guilty that he enjoyed killing them at all.

Alphonse's musings were broken by a soft knock at his door. Even without looking, he knew who it was; his heart couldn't lie. The mage turned to find Elsa watching him. He gave a faint smile, one that mirrored her own, and approached to stand before her.

Elsa placed her hand against the side of his face, her thumb gently caressing as she just … looked at him. Alphonse leaned into the touch, the simple action like a balm to his tortured soul. Perhaps it was one to hers as well. Without thought, Alphonse placed his hands on her waist to draw her closer. They leaned in and rested against each other, foreheads gently touching.

Alphonse didn't know what to think about this. Never since his long-lost family had anyone ever made him feel so at peace.

Elsa shifted and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. Alphonse smiled, a true smile and returned the gesture. As he turned to leave, Alphonse felt Elsa's grip on his wrist (when had she grabbed his wrist?) tighten.

"Stay," she whispered. Not a command; a heartfelt request. Alphonse turned to her, his resolve hardening. He had a job to do. But looking at Elsa, at the sadness in her eyes, he felt that resolve begin to fracture. As she drew him into a hug, her face resting against his chest, it crumbled to bits. And so he stayed with her, simply soaking in her very presence.

At the end of the hall, Anna and Rapunzel watched this all play out with warm smiles. Oh, those two were just so perfect for each other! Besides, Anna thought, it's time Alphonse lets us handle one of their own problems for once.

Out at the edge of the town, Kristoff stood with his back to a tree, reading over some entries copied from Alphonse's journal that Anna had given him. (How she got a hold of them was beyond him.) Anna had asked Kristoff to handle the Nokken, as he had the greatest knowledge of supernatural creatures aside from Alphonse. She didn't know it, but he had actually encountered a Fossegrim, an uncorrupted Nokken, when he was younger. It had been kind enough to teach him how to play his lute.

A rise of magic drew Kristoff's attention, his Fetch senses picking it up like a burst of sunbeams. He grinned as he saw what seemed to be golden nodes of light, like dust caught in the sunlight shining through a window, settle in the air of Arendelle. It seemed Anna had done as she promised and devised a counter to the Nokken's enchantment.

As if on cue, the ice harvester caught the first traces of the music wafting from the mountains. Kristoff stood and began walking, clutching the amulet Anna had given him that would, in her own words, mask his magical presage, the natural "scent" that all creatures of magic gave off. Not that it would need much; Elsa's presage was apparently so strong it could mask a small army of magicians.

Rather than fight the music, Kristoff let it guide him, his thoughts carefully shielded from the full effects. Kristoff grinned as he thought over his condensed mass-lesson with Thor, remembering his surprise that the Thunderer had taught him far more than fighting.

Thor, despite his appearance, was actually quite smart. He had taught Kristoff about the creatures of what he called the "Ashland community", creatures that had survived Ragnarok (it wasn't just humans; all races had had a few survivors) and built upon the lessons Kristoff had gotten from Grand Pabbie. He had taught him how to shield his mind from enchantment, to think strategically and tactically (not the same thing), and that some situations (though not many) required finesse rather than force.

As Kristoff drew closer to the river, he could feel the effects of the melody getting stronger. He breathed deep and focused on an image of Anna, of her soft strawberry hair, her adorable giggle (her adorable everything), and the kindness that had only grown stronger during this whole Residuum thing that had risen up.

After some time, Kristoff emerged into a clearing to find the Nokken. Unlike Fell the Fossegrim, who had brown hair and tanned skin, this Nokken had black hair and skin almost deadly pale, faint blue veins visible in part of it. He was dressed in navy clothes to camouflage with the water.

The Nokken glanced up as he continued playing, a little surprised that his prey had stopped moving. The creature grinned and ceased his music, lowering his violin to rest at his side. His gaze moved up and down Kristoff, his eyebrow raising in confusion.

"You are the echo of the All-Father?" Bornemann scoffed. "Why would he need me to whittle down these guards if this is the worst he's up against?" As the spoke, the Nokken failed to notice the winds beginning to strengthen, the power charging the air.

Kristoff kept his expression carefully neutral as he removed the dormant Mjolnir from his coat pocket, hidden in his closed hand. He silently willed thunderheads to begin rolling in, the skies heeding his call. Kristoff grinned, nothing kind in the look, and flicked the hammer to its true size, claps of thunder emanating from the darkened skies.

Bornemann turned blue in fear, realizing his mistake. This wasn't Odin; this was the dreaded Thor! Loki hadn't told him of this! Suddenly panicking, the water spirit dove for the protection of the river. He hadn't even touched the waters before he was blown back by a hail of lightning that vaporized the current, leaving a momentary hole in the waters.

Bornemann groaned as he tried to regain his bearings. He made it to his wobbling feet before he felt something grab hold of him and he was smashed against a tree. As his vision cleared, Bornemann barely stifled a shriek of fear at the sight of Kristoff's murderous glare.

"I have only one question," Kristoff said, almost too-quietly to hear. "Where is Hans?" Like Thor, Kristoff was far smarter than he looked. It hadn't taken him long to figure out why this creature was targeting Arendelle's guardsmen. Every dead guardsman left Arendelle just a little weaker, the royal family and the people they protected just a little more vulnerable. And it was foolish to think that a Nokken would risk the wrath of the Snow Queen on his own. This had to be Hans's work.

Bornemann's eyes narrowed, his fear giving away ever-so-slightly to confusion, before they widened in realization. "So that is his name now?" he asked. The Nokken grunted as Kristoff slammed him against the tree again.

"Tell me where he is …" Kristoff growled, holding up Bornemann's violin in his other hand, "or else." Kristoff dropped the violin and placed a foot on it, his weight causing the instrument to creak in protest. Bornemann' breath caught in his throat at the sight. The violin was an integral part of his kind; it was the way they claimed food, what they were born to use, it was their very niche in the world. He felt unshed tears burning in his eyes.

"I don't know," Bornemann answered. Kristoff applied more pressure. "I swear I don't know!" he cried. "Loki summoned me, he gave me this deal!" The tears began falling. "Please let me go; don't hurt my instrument! I'll leave and never return, I swear!" He was openly weeping now, his terror reaching a breaking point.

Kristoff sighed and stepped back, releasing the Nokken. "You will leave." It was a statement, not a question. "But not before you pay for the men you killed." With that, Kristoff stomped on the fiddle, smashing it to bits. Bornemann howled as he felt a bit of himself shatter along with it, collapsing into the grass to cradle his broken violin.

Bornemann looked up at Kristoff, hatred burning in his gaze. He grabbed a rock and lunged. And coughed up blood as he felt a searing wound in his back. The Nokken collapsed back into the grass, dead as a stone with a dagger in his back.

Kristoff stared at the dead Nokken, stunned by the sudden death. His surprise was broken by the sound of faint, dark chuckles emanating from the woods. And out of the shadows strode Hans himself.

"Good evening," Hans said easily.

 **Fell is a Norse name for "living in the mountains".**

 **Read and review; they keep me going.**


	21. One with the Wind and Sky

**Chapter Twenty: One With the Wind And Sky**

For a few long moments, Kristoff simply stared. His mind was blank at the sight of the thing that had caused so much chaos over the past … had it really been little more than a week? After those few moments had passed, the void in his mind was filled with white-hot fury.

Kristoff leaped with a fearsome cry and swung down at the trickster before him, shattering the ground into gravel. As the dust settled, Kristoff seethed at the lack of a body. Thor had warned him that the jotun race had been particularly skilled with illusion, and Loki had been no exception.

Kristoff tightened his grip on Mjolnir at the echoing sound of clapping. Hans, now loki given his higher voice, was almost giggling as his gaze wandered over the crater Kristoff had made. "I have to say, Thor, I really did miss watching you work." His eyes levelled on the hammer and his smile faded into a scowl as he gently rubbed the scars on his lips. "Though I do wish that had been lost to the sea."

Kristoff held out Mjolnir and jerked lightning down, lances of energy ripping from the clouds toward the ex-jotun and destroying where he had been. Kristoff caught the way Loki's form seemed to melt away like mist as the lightning struck. Before the ground had stopped smoking, Loki was walking back into the clearing.

"Now, Thor, is that any way to treat an old friend?" he asked coyly.

"We are not friends!" Kristoff spat. Loki gave him a deadpan look, as if wondering just how stupid he was.

"Not you, ice harvester," he said, chuckling at the occupation. "I'm talking to Thor, who lives on inside you." Loki's expression wavered and for a brief moment he looked … sad. Then the wily grin was back in place. "You really were my best friend, Thor. Well, except for Odin, of course, but brotherhood pales in comparison to mere friendship." Kristoff stiffened at this piece of news, sensing the truth in the words. Loki and Odin had been brothers?

"Blood-brothers," Loki supplied, "brothers of our own choosing." He adopted a fearsome scowl. "Of course, that didn't stop him from imprisoning me after that little incident with Baldr!" he spat.

"Incident?" Kristoff demanded, "you killed his son!" Loki barked a laugh.

"Technically, Hodr killed him. I just … helped." Hans dissolved into cruel laughter, tears streaming from his face. "And dear brother Odin didn't even think to investigate before he birthed a son to kill Hodr!" He laughed even louder than before, as if it were the greatest joke in the world. "It was only _after_ Hodr was dead on the ground that Odin thought to _speak_ to him about it, to understand my involvement." The trickster scowled, his face turning red.

"And then they turned on me; after I had saved them so many times, they turned against me like a common-"

"Murderer?" Kristoff deadpanned, hoping to keep him talking; perhaps he'd let something important slip. Hans's glower at the barb was somehow both flat and furious.

"And even at the height of my humiliation, the Ice Queen had to kick me while I was down." He hissed and rubbed the pale, half-healed burns across his eyes. "She planted a snake to drip venom in my eyes. The petty, frigid, little-" he dissolved into angry muttering, in a language Kristoff was pretty sure had long-since died out. Then like a switch, he turned back to Kristoff with a sinister grin.

"But she'll pay for that, one way or another. When I chain her up just as she did me," his gaze lit up with barely-suppressed madness, "and I bring this kingdom to its knees as she watches, helpless to protect her people. Or her family. Or that new beau of hers."

Kristoff stomped his foot and Hans cried out as the ground exploded from underneath him. Kristoff grinned as the trickster landed with a groan. So few remembered that Thor had been a son of the Earth itself. As such, Kristoff had "inherited" a certain connection to it, one only made stronger by his adoption by Pabbie.

Hans coughed as he hauled himself up and dusted his shoulders off, fixing Kristoff with a look of mild interest. "I have to admit, I didn't expect that," he admitted, voice low again. Hans flashed a feral grin. "Loki may have been one to avoid combat, but I sure-as-Hel am not." Hans reached out to his side and the air seemed to shimmer, settling into a familiar dark-steeled sword. "Shall we?"

Kristoff grit his teeth and charged, swinging Mjolnir to meet Mistilteinn.

* * *

Elsa sighed in contentment as she nuzzled into Alphonse's chest, her fingers stroking the cotton of his shirt. She idly thought that if Anna ever wanted her to distract Alphonse again, for whatever reason, she would be all too happy to oblige. Soon, sleep began to overtake the Snow Queen, and she felt herself gently falling …

 _Elsa blinked at the wavering landscape before her, the world seeming to gently sway like grass in the wind. She registered someone clutching her hand and turned to find Alphonse with her, his gaze hard as he looked across the grey landscape._ This must be a dream, _Elsa realized. Just as she had the thought, two figures appeared in the distance, growing closer. Alphonse drew Elsa close, clutching her against him as if to protect her. Elsa sighed as she gently moved away, keeping only their hands together; she appreciated the gesture, but she could take care of herself._

 _After some time, the distant figures settled into something recognizable. And upon recognizing them, Elsa's eyes widened in surprise._

 _The figure on the left was a tall, strongly-built man that radiated strength. His hair was a shoulder-length curtain of ebony and iron with a single small braid framing the side of his serene, finely-wrinkled face. He was dressed in grey, with a navy cloak like Alphonse's and a wide-brimmed hat, a pale spear held across his shoulders._

 _But what confirmed his identity was his eyes: a single green orb that flashed with cunning and experience, the other covered by a faded black patch. This was Odin Borson, Alphonse's Remnant._

 _Next to Odin strode a tall, graceful woman with pure-white hair, even paler than Elsa's, and skin to match. Her eyes were like ink, her lips blue as if from cold. Her gaze was icy and distant, as if nothing mattered to her. She was dressed in a tight, faintly green dress that left little to the imagination, with strong leather arm-braces and snow boots._

 _Without needing to ask, Elsa knew this was her own Remnant. This was Skadi, the first Snow Queen._

" _Alphonse," Odin greeted, his voice low and gravelly, instilling dread even as it invited you in to listen; the voice of a commander, "we finally meet. I have waited for this day for quite some time." Elsa felt the grip on her hand tighten, saw Alphonse stiffen through the corner of her eye. Odin's lips stretched into a sardonic grin._

" _Something on your mind, boy?" he asked. There was silence for a pair of heartbeats before Alphonse swung, striking Odin squarely in the cheekbone. The All-Father turned back to them, seemingly unaffected. "Feel bett-?" Another strike from the other hand. This one sent Odin to his knee, leaning against his spear as he spit out a spray of blood._

 _Alphonse hissed through his teeth as he clutched his hands together. Elsa calmly reached forward and placed her hands over his, soothing the ache and eliciting a sigh of contentment from the mage. A faint huff of amusement drew attention to Skadi, whose demeanor had not changed._

" _I like this one," she said, her tone faint and uncaring. Odin barked a laugh and stood up rubbing his jaw._

" _Me too," he commented._

" _What do you want?" Elsa asked, channeling her own inner-Snow Queen, a tone that had stilled everything from raging politicians to partying trolls. Odin just grinned; Skadi remained unaffected._

" _I want many things, Elsa," Odin replied. "I want to thank you for slaying Hugin and Munin, and returning their essences to their source: to me. I want to thank you for giving Alphonse that last push to finish my path, opening him up to his own way. And I want to thank you for freeing him from the chains of Fate, just as my dear Frigga did to me."_

 _Elsa's eyes narrowed at the "Dear Frigga". "If I recall my poetry correctly, Odin, you had many sons with many different women, at least one of which was forced and had you banished from your own kingdom for ten years. How exactly does that mesh with your 'dear' queen?" Odin chuckled at the question, sighing in contentment._

" _Well, Elsa, Frigga and I had something of an … open relationship." Elsa gripped tighter to Alphonse in surprise. "When I was gone on my many ... quests, she was free to … meet her needs as she desired, just as I was free to do so." He glanced at Skadi, who simply glared at him. "But no matter what happened or who we met, it was never the same as when we were together," he added with a wistful sigh. "That woman was quite gifted, in many ways." Elsa felt her cheeks start to burn, utterly uncomfortable listening to this. "And when I came home and the night fell, as we met in that most primitive of ways-"_

" _Okay, that's enough!" Alphonse shouted, "There are some things that someone cannot unhear!" The grin on Odin's face only grew._

" _What do you want?" Elsa repeated, much more forcefully._

" _Perhaps you should be asking her that," Odin said, gesturing to Skadi. The goddess strode forward and grasped Elsa's chin between her fingers, tilting the queen's head this way and that. When Alphonse tried to intervene, Skadi simply flicked him across the brow and he flew into the distance._

" _You are quite the disappointment," Skadi growled as she let Elsa go. Elsa took a step back in surprise, both at the unexpected insult and at the fact that she felt … hurt by it. "Why the cosmos would bless you with power even greater than my own, bolstered by my own, is beyond me," the jotun continued with a cruel sneer. "You locked yourself away in fear of your gift and ran away when it was revealed. You barely fought off two men and couldn't defeat a simple prince. And when all seemed lost you let yourself crumble like a weathered stone over your sister's frozen corpse."_

 _At the mention of Anna's sacrifice, Elsa felt anger ignite in her heart. Without thinking, she slapped Skadi across the face. Skadi levelled her gaze … and gave the slightest grin. "There it is. Your spirit, the strength of the mountains." Skadi snapped her fingers and, with a shout of surprise, Alphonse was jerked back from the distance to crash into the ground before the Snow Queens. The mage stood and brushed what appeared to be frost off of his cloak._

" _That was not fun," he deadpanned, to which Elsa giggled._

" _For the record," Odin said as he approached, "we didn't come here just to troll you. Though, that was quite fun." Glares from both Elsa and Alphonse spurred him on. "We came to test you out. And I must say, I am impressed. Alphonse, you better hold on to this one," he gestured to Elsa, "she's definitely a keeper. Not to mention she had looks men would die for." Elsa blushed at the comment, which only deepened as he muttered, "If I were still alive, I wonder if Frigga would have minded-" He was cut off by another punch from Alphonse._

" _And you have my approval as well, Queen Elsa," Skadi said. "I look forward to watching you finish that abomination that Loki has become." Skadi leaned in to whisper in Elsa's ear, "If you ever want insight in … creative uses of your magic, simply visit your Palace and Dream of me. I will find you, and we will hunt like true Queens."_

 _With that, Skadi dissolved into snowflakes that blew away to dance on the non-existent wind. As they watched, Odin's demeanor grew grim._

" _Before I go as well, there are a few things we need to discuss." He held a hand out toward Alphonse, who began to retch. Out of his mouth emerged a crow, which_ crawed _and settled on the mage's shoulder. "You understand?" Odin asked, to which Alphonse shakily nodded and snapped his fingers, the crow turning to ash before melting away._

" _And now to the matter of Loki," the All-Father said, and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground. In a flash, they were standing in what appeared to be a log cabin, three large armchairs sitting before a massive, roaring fireplace. Odin sat in one, leaving Elsa and Alphonse to take the other two._

" _In regards to my wayward blood-brother," Odin began, "you need to force his hand." It seemed Alphonse had picked up his lecturing habit from his Remnant. "Loki was never one for direct conflict. He fought outright on few occasions and leaned far closer to deception and trickery. The one time he committed himself utterly towards true combat was at Ragnarok, and that got him killed._

" _As such, and with this Hans fellow being as crafty as him, he will simply whittle you down, throwing his ever-growing forces at you to weaken you before he swoops in for the final kill." He pointed to Elsa. "You, I believe, both sides have a particular interest in. Hans hates you for ruining his chance at his own kingdom while Loki hates Skadi for planting that snake to torment him for so long._

" _To keep this from happening, to prevent your own sort of Ragnarok, you need to force him to fight openly, to commit his forces against you. In this way, I believe, you have a chance at victory."_

 _Elsa traded a glance with Alphonse. "How do we do this?" Elsa asked._

" _With something we called The Peace of Kvasir," Odin answered with a terrifying grin._

* * *

Kristoff growled as he lifted himself from the ruins of a large tree, shaking the dust off of himself. He stretched his senses as far and as taut as he could, searching for the real Hans. The trickster had fooled him with illusions this entire fight and he was really getting sick of it.

An insane warcry split the air as Hans fell toward him, sword gleaming in the sunlight. Kristoff braced himself and swung down, Mjolnir's head smashing into the ground and releasing a wave of force that threw Hans off. Even as the prince fell, Kristoff reached back and hurled the hammer at him. Hans twisted in the air, avoiding the killing blow by a hair's breadth.

Kristoff braced his arm as Mjolnir flew back to his grasp and charged back into the fray. Hans landed with a roll and braced himself to meet the charge. Both men swung, their weapons meeting in a barrage of sparks. Hans spun around, breaking from the clash with fluid grace, and swung around to catch Kristoff off guard. The ice harvester barely ducked in time to avoid.

Bracing his weight, Kristoff mentally _pushed_ the ground out from underneath them, sending both men flying. Kristoff rolled across the ground, his innate woodsman skill taking over. Even as he acted, he thought furiously for a way to get the upper hand. This battle had gone on for far too long and soon the citizens of arendelle would be drawn to them, their curiosity overwhelming their fear.

Hans strode from the treeline as if he hadn't a care in the world and flicked his wrist. A gale force wind rose up and blew at Kristoff, sending him flying yet again. As he slammed into a rock face, part of him thought how ironic it was that wind was knocking around the reborn god of storms.

Like a flash, inspiration struck; not to mention he realized how stupid he had been this entire fight. He had let Hans dictate the rules of their fight, let him manipulate Kristoff into forgetting his greatest weapon. Kristoff centered himself, but unlike before he focused his willpower _up_ rather than _down_. Kristoff, quite frankly, was more comfortable with earth than the air, but that wasn't who he was anymore. Hans was a trained fighter, so Kristoff had to embrace both sides of his environment if he wanted to survive, much less win.

Winds whipped up as thunderheads rolled in, charged with lightning and echoing with the calls of thunder. Hans cried out as the winds whirled around him, jerking him from side to side. Kristoff thrust his hammer up, catching spears of energy as they struck down until Mjolnir glowed red and couldn't hold anymore.

Kristoff lunged forward with a shout and struck with all of his might. The explosion shook the forest around them and blinded the blonde; he himself flew backwards from the recoil, losing his grip on his weapon.

After a few moments, when his ears stopped ringing, Kristoff opened his eyes to see the trees around them blown down in a circle, all leaning away from a huge crater in the ground. The blonde briefly marveled at what he had done before he shook it off and approached to check the state of Hans. It had felt like a direct hit; there was no way he was still _alive_ after that. But in the crater sat the hammer, no charred body in sight. Only a small puddle of black goo.

Dark chuckling drew Kristoff's attention further, only to find a trio of Hans at the far side of the crater. The center-most, battered and bruised, snapped his fingers and the two others dissolved into black muck, identical to the sludge that pooled within the crater. It had been some kind of replica that Kristoff had struck down.

"Oh Thor," Loki sneered, "you're not as bright as you used to be." Kristoff growled and jerked his hammer up. Kristoff focused through it to summon more storm-clouds … and it spasmed in his grip with a burst of purple sparks. Only then did Kristoff notice something unexpected - and terrifying. An ugly crack ran down Mjolnir's head, nearly cleaving the weapon in two.

And it was during that moment of stunned horror that Hans darted forward and struck him across the face, sending the ice harvester reeling. Kristoff spit a glob of blood and stood on shaky knees. He may be weaponless, but he was far from weak. And he would not lose to this insane piece of dirt.

Hans sneered as he twirled Misteltein, already imagining the moment when he thrust its blade into the troll-child's heart. He could already see him rot away into oblivion, could picture the heartbreak on Anna's face as he told her that her husband was dead. He wondered if she would wail in despair, or if she would take it quietly, like her sister. Given Anna's loud nature, he decided on the former.

Hans readied himself, sneering at Kristoff's rough, bare handed stance and swung. The blade was an inch from Kristoff's neck, when-

"FREEZE!" Both men locked up at the unexpected shout (not to mention the tendrils of magic that halted their movements) and both looked up to find a large white hawk descending, allowing three very familiar figure to climb off its back. Elsa patted her snow-hawk's head with muted affection, even as Anna held her hands up to maintain the binding spell.

"Really, you had to say it?" Elsa asked. Even as she trembled from the effort of maintaining a continued spell, Anna gave a faint grin.

"Somebody had to," she replied through gritted teeth. Alphonse strode forward, hands splayed in an action that, in any other situation, would seem peaceful. But the steely glint in his eyes said otherwise.

"Loki Laufeyson, Hans Westergard," he said with a tone of unmistakable authority, "I invoke the Peace of Kvasir." Even as the last syllable passed his lips, both Hans and Kristoff felt the magic binding them in place fall away. Both looked to each other and braced to resume their duel … only to find that their bodies would not do so. Hans flexed his hands, curling his fingers to test them. Kristoff shook himself to make sure everything was working; yep, seemed good. But when they tried to attack, their bodies failed to act.

Taking over,Loki roared in frustration. Why?! Why had he helped that forsaken Pact. In a flurry of images and impressions, Loki shared all he knew about what had just been invoked. And, given that he had been a part of its inception, he knew quite a lot.

The Peace of Kvasir had been a lesser-known aspect of the end of the Aesir-Vanir War, one not even recorded in the poetry of Man. After the war had ended, with the murder of Kvasir the Bard by the mad dwarves Fjalar and Galar, the greatest sorcerers of all races had joined in an effort to prevent any future attempt to resume the bloodshed.

Odin, Frigga, and Freya had organized the ritual, along with seven elves, ten dwarves, and thirteen human women. Loki himself had attended as a representative of the jotun tribes. Twenty-four magic users, the number of hours in a day, had gathered an wrought one of the greatest enchantments in history. Using their collective powers, Freya had woven a failsafe into the soul of every being, one that could be invoked by any of their races.

The terms of the Peace, should it be invoked, were a three-day period of forced passivity in which none could attack any of the others, whether directly or by order. The Peace was originally meant to facilitate peace talks during times of tension, a time to smooth away insults and divine peaceful solutions. The invocation was irrefutable, and no one could resist it. Not even Loki - or Hans.

Hans glared at Alphonse, and if looks could kill the mage would have burned to ash, and then some. Alphonse simply returned a level look, as if daring him to try. Hans sneered and sheathed his sword. "You may have invoked the Peace, Alphonse, but it's too late to stop what is coming. I hope you enjoy your gift." With that, Hans Shifted into a falcon and flying away.

As he flew, the prince was already planning his next move. They may be able to prevent direct attack or orders, but they couldn't stop him from amassing his forces. Or unleashing something without orders.

* * *

As they watched Hans fly away, Kristoff turned and regarded his wife, sister-in-law, and whatever-Alphonse-was, with a measure of calm. And then that calm shattered like glass.

"What just happened?!"

 **Yes, I totally made up Kvasir's Peace. Read the story of Kvasir, it's really weird (even for Norse** **mythology). Read, review. Can't wait for the next chapter.**

 **PS, I'll be bringing** **in surprise** **characters. Can't wait to see what ya'll think.**


	22. Preparations and Promises

**Chapter Twenty-One: Preparation and Promises**

After returning to Arendelle Castle (after, in turn, explaining to the people of the town about the fearsome noises that had come from the forest), Elsa and Alphonse had explained Kvasir's Peace and their shared dream to Anna, Kristoff, Rapunzel, and Eugene. After a few moments to digest the information, it was eugene who had asked the obvious question. "So, what do we do now?"

Elsa and Alphonse had glanced at each other, as if each were expecting the other to take the lead. A few seconds of silent debate led to Elsa sighing and addressing the group. "There's no way we can settle this peacefully," she began. "So we need to prepare for what is coming."

"Where do we start?" Anna asked. In answer, Alphonse cleared his throat, grabbing everyone's attention, and glanced pointedly at the clearly-damaged Mjolnir. Kristoff, usually the one to keep his cool in the group, blushed and hid the hammer behind his back like a child in trouble.

"How did that even happen?" Anna asked, leaning against Kristoff for moral support. "I mean, isn't Mjolnir, like, magic or whatever?" As usual, it was Alphonse who answered.

"Mjolnir was crafted by the dwarves Brokkr and Sindri. They and the sons of Ivaldi were responsible for forging the six greatest treasures of the Aesir and their allies, of which Mjolnir was arguably the best." Alphonse paused in thought. "The only ones who could possibly know how to fix it are modern dwarves."

"Do we know any modern dwarves?" Eugene asked sardonically. The ex-thief had always approached the supernatural with sarcasm; it was how he coped.

"I do," Alphonse answered, quirking a grin at Eugene's pointed look. Both men knew the question had been rhetorical, but it needed to be answered. "I helped a group of them a few years back and they owe me one. I can probably arrange for them to fix Mjolnir, among other things." The last part was spoken almost wistfully.

"So while you're doing that," Rapunzel replied, "what will the rest of us be doing to help?" In the ensuing silence, Elsa fixed Anna with a piercing look, that "aloof big sister" look that demanded honesty.

"Anna," her tone was just as uncompromising as her eyes, "is there something you want to tell everyone?" Said princess turned pink as everyone's attention turned to her and she tried to order her thoughts before answering.

"Before I Dreamt of Alphonse's … situation, I had another part of a Dream. Freya appeared as a cat and led me through the woods to a cave. Inside the cave, there was a twisted tree with a sword sticking out of it. I think-" she hesitated but powered on, "I think I'm supposed to find it and pull it out." Her story done, Anna looked up to find Elsa and Alphonse trading another look, almost as if they were debating on something. Anna quirked a grin at how close they had become.

"If you Dreamt it, Anna, then it must be important," Alphonse said. "Dreams like this were often a way to learn one's destiny, big or small. And if it's the sword I think it is, we could definitely use it."

"But you can't go alone," Elsa added, her tone firm. Knowing Anna, she would leave this very night to go find this sword, just as she had chased after Elsa after her coronation. A solution came from Rapunzel.

"Can anybody say 'girl's day out'?" she asked, smile wide and eyes hopeful. "We can go get the sword, Alphonse can visit his dwarf friends, and Eugene and Kristoff can stay and keep an eye on Arendelle." It had been too long since all three women had had alone time to bond; this was as good a chance as any.

After a few moments, Eugene spoke up, well aware that he wouldn't be able to change his wife's mind. "Any other ideas?" Pause. "Going once, going twice - sold." He knocked on the table as if pounding a gavel and stood, taking Rapunzel's hand. "Now, when's dinner? I, personally, am starving." The group chuckled in agreement.

* * *

As the sun rose over the mountains of Arendelle the next morning, Rapunzel saddled Maximus for the quite-possibly-long journey ahead of them. Elsa, dressed in a navy wool riding dress, had created a horse of ice to ride. Anna was sitting on a bale of hay, lightly snoring. She had been excited to get moving, but even excitement only went so far against Anna's not-a-morning-person nature.

As Rapunzel finished saddling Maximus, Elsa nudged Anna awake and the three left. Throughout the short trip through the town, Rapunzel held back the question burning at the tip of her tongue, but was unsure if she should ask. Instead, she decided to break the silence with a more (or less) mundane question.

"So, Anna? Where's your horse?" Rapunzel had no doubt Anna was driven, but even she had used a horse when searching for Elsa after the coronation (she would know, she had seen Anna bolt into the mountains after the Winter started). Anna glanced at Rapunzel with a devious grin and, making sure they were out of the town, ran ahead. The princess climbed a rock and jumped off …

And in a flash of light there was a red-feathered hawk in her place, flapping to hover before them. "Come on, slowpokes! The sword's this way!" Anna got moving, flying far ahead of her sister and cousin. Rapunzel, after a moment of stunned silence, looked to Elsa for a handle on what she had just seen.

Elsa simply shrugged with a small smile and nudged her snow-horse into a gallop. Rapunzel grinned and looked down to meet Maximus's eye. "Wanna show them what a _real_ horse can do?" Maximus neighed in approval and bolted forward, intent on catching Elsa's faux-horse.

* * *

The same morning, far from Arendelle and some distance from Corona, a massive tree stood alone in a meadow, shading the grass around it for a good half-mile. The tree, a Scion of Yggdrasil, creaked as its innate power was harnessed from far to the north. Roots far from the trunk rose up in an arch and the air underneath began to fill with ethereal mist.

From that mist emerged Alphonse, his cloak on and his bag thrown over his shoulder. The mage's fingers twitched at lacking the familiar weight of his staff, but he shrugged it off and kept moving. In a flash, he Shifted into an eagle and flew west, to the castle of the local monarchs of Zuerst. He didn't need to see them, nor did he care to; he just knew his goal was most-easily found from the castle

After some time, Alphonse finally saw the spires of the castle, and more importantly the forests around it. Orienting himself to pass by, Alphonse flew on until his enhanced eagle-eyes noticed the glimmer of a small river between the trees, turning to follow the river to his destination.

Alphonse tucked his wings in and fell, fell, fell. At the last possible moment, he flared his wings and caught the wind, slowing just enough to Shift back to his human form and land lightly on the ground. The mage looked up to find a small cottage sitting peacefully in the forest. He glanced backward at the faint sound of music growing even fainter and grinned.

The best way to find those he sought: follow the music. Alphonse Shifted again, this time into a wolf, and loped along after the music.

* * *

As the sun began its descent back to the horizon, Elsa had to consciously keep her breathing even. While she was an excellent horsewoman, Elsa had to admit to herself that her stamina was rather lacking due to the amounts of time she spent in her office going over paperwork (yet another reason to hate it). On the other hand, both Rapunzel and Anna (who was on foot!) seemed perfectly fine; not surprising, given they were both energetic and quite active. The queen decided to add more physical conditioning to her daily schedule.

Even as the trio had moved further into the forested lower-mountains, Anna had barely hesitated in her chosen path. When asked about it by Rapunzel, she had commented that it was "just a feeling". From anyone else, Elsa would have been nervous. But this was Anna! If anyone could find this so-called sword with pure intuition, it was her!

Anna held up her hand, signalling for them to stop. The strawberry-blonde hummed in thought and nodded to herself. "Wait here, guys. I'm gonna fly up and get a look around." Not a heartbeat later, she had Shifted and was soaring into the sky.

As Anna left, Rapunzel glanced at her just-barely-older cousin. With Anna gone for the moment, she smirked and asked the question she had been burning to ask all morning, and even since the day before. "So, Elsa. What's between you and Alphonse?" Elsa's head turned so fast she might have gotten whiplash.

"Between?" she asked, cheeks pinking. "W-what makes you think there's anything _between_ us?" Was it getting hot in here, or was that just her? Why was Rapunzel even asking this? Elsa already had enough curiosity to deal with with Anna.

"Well …" Rapunzel trailed off with a grin. Elsa's nervousness was already a part-answer. "You seemed pretty close when we asked you to distract him. I mean, I had no idea what Anna meant when she you'd be 'the best one for the job', but the way you two looked at each other-" she giggled, "it was like you two were in your own, adorable little world!"

Every word out of Rapunzel's mouth made Elsa's blush grow deeper, until it seemed she should pass out. Was she really that transparent? Of course, given her childhood, she had no experience _at all_ with this kind of relationship. Was that "look", as Rapunzel called it, normal? Something must have shown in her expression, because Rapunzel was giving her that look, the wide-eyed look of pure, deep _understanding_. The one that had pushed Elsa to share life stories with her when they first got to know one another.

Before Elsa could ask for advice, Anna crashed back through the branches, swinging down from the last few, to land with a wide grin and twigs in her pigtails. "It's just a little further! Come on!" Like lightning, the princess was off. Rapunzel offered a reassuring smile before urging Maximus on, Elsa following.

In all, Anna had been half-right. It was only about a _half-hour_ until they stopped in front of a low cave, it depths utterly masked by darkness. Anna seemed ready to explode with excitement as her sister and cousin climbed down from their mouths, her fingers twitching as if fighting the urge to grab them and drag them along at her own breakneck pace (which she was probably considering).

Finally, the trio entered the cave, Anna in the lead. There were several tense moments of darkness before they emerged into a cavern just as Anna had described on the journey. Light streamed down from cracks in the ceiling, softly illuminating the cavern and the twisted tree composed mostly of a huge knot in the trunk. And sunk in the wood, almost to the hilt, was a dull sword.

Anna took a step back ,suddenly doubting herself. Maybe the Dream had meant for her to lead the others here? "Rapunzel, why don't you try? You're easily the strongest of us." Which wasn't a lie; Rapunzel's brute strength was all-but-legendary in the Arendelle Castle.

Rapunzel fixed Anna with a quizzical look before giving the slightest shrug and stepping forward. She gently took hold of the handle and tugged, grunting as the sword refused to budge. She tugged harder with the same result. Rapunzel braced herself against the small tree and heaved with all of her strength, for as long as she could. She grit her teeth, sweat beginning to bead her brow. "Snuggly Duckling, that's in there!" she grunted, panting lightly.

Anna looked to Elsa, who chuckled. "If Rapunzel couldn't budge it, what makes you think I can?" she asked. Rats. Elsa had to use her precious _logic_ to pass up her turn. Anna gulped and strode forward, masking her sudden and rather bizarre insecurity. And yet, as she placed her hand on the handle, she couldn't help but feel a sense of _rightness_. Anna took a deep breath and firmly tugged - and in a trail of sparks, the sword slid free from its wooden sheath, faintly ringing in Anna's hands.

Anna's eyes widened as tarnish seemed to crumble away from the weapon, leaving in its wake a shining, bronze-colored longsword. She looked closely at the image emblazoned along the blade, like a dragon crawling toward the hilt, and there were faint markings along the blade that looked like it had actually been reforged.

On impulse, Anna whirled around and slashed the wall of the cavern, leaving a deep gash in the stone. She actually yelped out in surprise as the sword kept going, barely slowed by the rock. With a quick shift of her weight, she brought the sword back under control, but her heart still pounded from the shock. And, after that had passed, a grin spread across her face. This sword was awesome!

"Seems Hans's magic sword isn't so unique," Rapunzel quipped. Elsa hummed in agreement, mind already working on plans for the upcoming battle.

* * *

In the forested cliffs of deep Zuerst, Alphonse Shifted back to his human shape and entered a large opening in one of the cliffs, its perfectly square shape hinting at it very artificial nature. Even to his slightly-enhanced human ears, the sounds of ringing and singing could be heard from the entrance.

Alphonse flexed his fingers in anticipation, the magically-reduced weight of Mjolnir resting in his pocket. Time to call in that favor.

* * *

As the sun began to set, the royal ladies were finally nearing the town of Arendelle. A small part of Elsa took pleasure in the fact that it was not just she who was tired, even if she had it the worst. Anna and Rapunzel were uncharacteristically quiet, though Anna more due to examining her new weapon than any real exhaustion.

As they walked, Rapunzel was both tired and swept up in her thoughts. She glanced at Anna, who swung her new blade at a thick tree, slicing it cleanly through the trunk to fall away from their path with a loud crash. She looked to Elsa, who kept her expression neutral despite her obvious fatigue. Rapunzel smiled at the thought of being related to such strong women, especially after having been all-but-alone throughout her life. Even now she had no siblings, but she had long since thought of these two sisters as her own.

Rapunzel's musings were severed by a sharp sense of dread that pooled in her stomach, and a chill of primal fear that surged up her spine. On instinct, she reined in maximus, who looked at his princess with a critical eye. He sensed her discomfort and braced himself for any-and-all attacks.

Elsa and Anna looked back at their cousin, having moved for a few more moments, with concern. As stillness swept over them, Anna felt that she sensed something … off. Something _malevolent_ , full of hate. And it was drawing nearer! A rustling in the bushes drew all three gazes and anna readied her new sword in a two-handed grip.

Out of the brush emerged an auburn-furred wolf. Mid-step, the creature melted into the shape of a woman in the prime of her life, dressed in a form-fitting grey robe. Her auburn hair was savagely cut at the jawline and her yellow-green eyes glimmered with barely-restrained hate. The age-paled symbol carved in her face caught the light of the setting sun, only making her seem more intimidating.

Anna prepared to lunge at her, but her body seemed unable to act. _Right_ , she thought, _the Peace thingy_. She drove the sword into the ground and crossed her arms, ready for whatever sort of trick this she-wolf could come up with.

"Skadi," the woman greeted with faint respect. Wolves had been sacred to Skadi, just as they had been to Odin. "Freya," she sneered. The Vanir had been, to her kind, a mass of undisciplined wretches inbred with the warring Aesir. Finally, she looked to rapunzel, and her lips curled in a fearsome snarl. "Sunna," she growled, hatred seeming to drip from that very word.

Rapunzel took a step back, that primal fear rising up. But an image of Gothel, her kidnapper and abuser, flashed across her mind's eye and she took two steps forward, stance hard and uncompromising as the glare she leveled at the wolf-woman.

"Who are you?" she asked. "And what do you want?"

"My name is Hati," the Maras answered, her fingers flexing as if ready to strangle the woman before her. "I am the Leader of my pack, one decimated in the attack on Skadi's domain." Elsa narrowed her eyes as she remembered this woman, remembered her presence at the Ice Palace next to Hans.

"What do you want?" Rapunzel repeated.

"To know what I want, you must know of my namesake, _Little Ember_ ," she spat. At the sound of that name, that taunting, terrifying moniker, Rapunzel gasped and clutched her head, images flashing behind her eyes as sounds echoed in her ears.

* * *

 _Rapunzel felt the air surge around her as the horses of her chariot raced across the waters of the sky. She felt her power, her heat, radiating from her like a thousand thousand raging fires, granting blessed warmth to the worlds beneath her. Beneath her lay the great shield Svalinn, the icy barrier that protected the Worlds from her power, from the burning strength of all of her heat. And she felt the unceasing pull of the reins of her horses as they galloped at full strength, ever fleeing._

 _At the thought, a fearsome howl echoed across the heavens, drawing her gaze backward. Behind , always behind, rode a horrifying monster. A son of Fenrir, a colossal wolf born to be her doom. His name was Hati, hatred, and his namesake burned in his gaze as he pursued her with unspeakable tenacity, his maw dripping with foam._

 _Rapunzel, Sunna, lashed the reins bound to her hands. They had to keep going. It would never stop; and neither would they!_

* * *

As the images faded, Rapunzel felt Elsa's cool touch at her back, Anna's warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find the wolf-woman glaring at her. So that was it. That was why this woman seemed to hate her, even if she had never met her.

"You want to finish what your … brother … started," she said simply.

Hati snarled. "He was born to kill you, and even as he succeeded, you escaped. You birthed your daughter," she pointed at the sun setting beyond the fjord, "as you ravaged him from the inside. He was only doing what the cosmos had made him to do and you took it away!"

"What was _she_ supposed to do?!" Rapunzel demanded. "Was she supposed to just give up and die? Was she supposed to slow down so that he could catch up? Hati was a monster, the son of an abomination, and the grandson of a lying murderer. And that same murderer threatens me and my family even to this day! So take your misplaced grudge and get out of here!"

As Rapunzel panted from her tirade, from the righteous fury burning within her, Elsa and Anna stared at her with wide eyes. They had never seen their cousin, their bright, cheerful, all-loving, _sunny_ cousin, this riled up.

Hati, unfazed by Rapunzel's words, fixed the princess with a deathly glare. "Know this, Sunna: When Ragnarok comes again and our Forloper's forces clash against you and your kind, I will be far stronger than I am now. And I will finish what my great brother started."

"And I'll be waiting to send you to meet him in death," Rapunzel replied coldly. "I promise." The weight of those words seemed to startle the she-wolf, but she shook it off and Shifted, loping away into the brush.

As silence stretched over the trio, Rapunzel collapsed to her knees, cold sweat lacing her skin as she panted with the fear of prey. Her cousins knelt with her, holding her in a comforting embrace. After a few minutes, they resumed their return to Arendelle, still silent.

It was only as they came within view of the lights of the town that someone broke the silence. "Damn, Rapunzel," Anna chuckled, "you're awesome!" Rapunzel giggled at Anna's joke. Before she could reply, a muted boom echoed from the town, a great light flaring in the distance.

Without hesitation, all three women raced for the city.

* * *

As the day drew to a close, Eugene and Kristoff finished yet another round of the city of Arendelle. At Elsa's command (even other royals tended to listen to the Snow Queen), both men had spent the day walking the streets, assuring citizens, explaining what was going on to the best of their ability, and overall making sure nothing underhanded was afoot.

As the sun made the last of its way beneath the horizon of the fjord, Eugene sighed good-naturedly. "You know," he said, "I think everything's gonna be alright."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a great explosion of water rocked the docks, accompanied by a bloodcurdling roar and a gout of burning fire.

"You were saying?" Kristoff deadpanned.

 **The surprise characters I mentioned? Arriving next chapter!**

 **For mythology buffs, I know it was Skoll (treachery) that hunted Sunna (the sun) and Hati (hatred) that chased Mani (the moon), I just like the "hatred" thing better. And the idea of the two wolves kind of "tagging in" (lke wrestlers) makes me chuckle.**

 **What'd ya'll think? Leave a review and let me know! Special shout-out to Miaka and TeamArendelle, my two most loyal reviewers - you guys/gals are awesome!**

 **Until next time!**


	23. Flame and Fury

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Flame and Fury**

As dusk feel over the deepest reaches of the mountains crags, a monster returned to its lair. The creature, shrouded in shadow, had only left to hunt, its belly now full of a plump doe and its fawn. The creature growled maliciously, its twisted mind recalling with glee the sight of the fawn before it was eaten and licked its chops.

The creature entered its main cavern and took a deep breath before spewing a thick gout of flames across the cavern, igniting oil that it had rubbed across the walls. The fires lit and illuminated the creature, revealing a reptilian dragon larger than a house, its scales a deep orange and covered with black flecks, its eyes red as blood. It had no wings, but it needed none. Not when all it cared about was right-

The dragon shrieked in surprise and horror at the sight of its cavern, utterly empty. Empty of the gold and jewels that it had protected for decades. Not the glimmer of a single coin remained. The dragon roared in fury, swearing vengeance upon whatever fool would dare to cross it. The roar was silenced, cut off as if with a knife, by faint chuckling.

Into the light from the shadow of a ledge walked a tall, svelte, redheaded man. "Surprised? I had hoped so," Hans said. The dragon howled and spat flames at the thief, but he just evaporated from the heat. The flames died down, and the thief once again appeared, wagging his finger as if the dragon were a naughty child.

"Now, now, Tore, what would that accomplish? After all, only I know where your hoard is." He said it all with a devious grin, not a trace of fear or even reverence in his tone. The dragon, perhaps once known as Tore, gave a fierce growl at the audacity of this thief. No one had uttered his abandoned name in decades.

Hans, on the other hand, steepled his fingers as he reflected on the way that some things never change. Many times, in the old days, these "cursed dragons" had been born from men; men twisted by greed and envy into something fearsome, something that reflected the monster within. Fafnir was the best remembered example, corrupted by the ring of Andvari, but there had been many before and after, most put out of their misery by Odin during his travels (and each slaying making the All-Father all the richer even as he gave the gold to those affected by the dragon's reign).

Some things never change, and this man Tore had befallen the same fate, his body twisted to reflect the darkness in his heart; greed for the gold his brother had been left by their father and envy for the approval of their family.

A part of Hans could relate to that, recalling his own childhood of striving to impress his father. His trip to Arendelle, to claim that throne, had been fueled in part by that very desire, as well as to rub his success in the faces of his brothers. Hans shook away his musings as he grinned at the dragon.

"Normally I would ask something belittling like 'would you like your gold back?', but I already know the answer. You do, more than anything. I can see it in those bloodshot eyes of yours." Said eyes grew only more furious. "But fear not, Tore. I will return your gold in due time. Every - last - coin." Tore narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but even his blackened heart could sense no treachery.

Hans grinned. "All I want in return is something quite easy to obtain." He paused, ever the showman. "The key to your treasure … is the corpse of the Snow Queen." With that, Hans disappeared into a whirl of mist. Tore snarled at the departed trickster, cursing him with every oath he knew. But the dragon had no choice. Only the thief knew where his hoard lay and Tore would do anything, absolutely _anything_ to get it back.

Tore bolted from his cave and out into the mountains, loping along paths long forgotten with incredible speed, smoke billowing from its snarling maw. As it left its cavern, Tore never noticed the shimmer. The walls seemed to sway like reeds in the wind, a cloak of illusion peeling away to reveal his hoard, not a single piece missing. Tore was fighting to reclaim that which had never been stolen.

Far from the cavern, a maniacal laugh echoed across the mountains. The royals of Arendelle would soon have an unexpected gift.

* * *

Kristoff stared, pale with fear, into the eyes of a huge dragon as it emerged from the water. A guttural snarl echoed from the creature as it shook off the excess water, kneading the ground beneath its claws like a cat ready to pounce.

"This'll be fun," Eugene groused.

* * *

Alphonse walked through the dark reaches of the cavern, its walls carved with perfect symmetry and pocked with hexagonal holes. As he drew further in, the sharp metallic clacking grew sharper, and the tune of the builders grew in volume. Finally, he entered the final cavern, glittering with naturally-cut gemstones; filled with the miners who extracted them for purposes unknown.

Within the cavern were seven creatures that resembled short men with prominent noses. Long white beards donned six of their chins, the final one baby-faced and cleanshaven. They all performed different tasks, four swinging pickaxes to remove the gems, one driving a cart for transport, one checking the gems (apparently for sound) and the babyface disposing of the rejects.

These were the dwarves of the seven jeweled hills of Zuerst, the guardians of the long-dead queen Snow White.

He stood there for a good ten minutes, listening to the borderline-nonsensical singing before he was noticed. One of the dwarves, the one with the largest nose and a permanent scowl, dropped his pickaxe with a start, then growled at the sight of the cloaked mage.

"Grumpy," Alphonse greeted neutrally.

"What're you doin' here?" Grumpy shouted, drawing the other dwarves' attention. All of them drew closer, instinctively forming a half-circle before the mage. He swung his gaze over all of them before answering.

"I'm calling in that solid you owe me," he replied lightly.

Three years before, he had come across the dwarves' cottage to find them depressed and unworked. A band of hobgoblins had swarmed through and taken over their mines, leaving the dwarves unable to work. Alphonse had volunteered to "remove" the goblin band and had done so with … chilling efficiency. The dwarves had been quite grateful, aside from Grumpy.

One of the dwarves, one with glasses, stepped forward. "What can do we for you- uh, we do, young Alphonse?" Doc asked. In response, Alphonse removed the dormant mjolnir from his pocket, flicking his wrist and, with a thin tendril of magic, snapping it into its full size, the prominent crack clearly visible.

"I had hoped you could work your own kind of magic." After the death of the "Wicked Queen" Grimhilde, the dwarves had never wavered in their devotion to the new queen Snow White. They had found a new sense of purpose: to serve her to the best of their skill. That included learning new skills.

Most dwarves "specialized" in one vocation or another, ranging from metalwork to masonry to mining. Anything and everything that involved the earth. The seven had taken it upon themselves to break this trend and learn anything that could aide their princess. They had learned metalworking and its own magic from a distant "cousin" named Smithy, and had apparently done quite well. After Snow White had finally passed, they had returned to mining. Dwarves were long-lived, just like the earth they worked, but they never lost their skills.

Doc took the hammer from Alphonse and adjusted his glasses, examining the piece with a practiced and naturally-analytical eye. He ran his thick finger over the crack with a tut-tut noise before moving on to examine the handle and its joint with the head. He sighed at the crack one more time before passing it back.

"Seems whoever has used it since the Great Quaking didn't know how to properly care for it," Doc surmised. All creatures had their own name for Ragnarok; the dwarves called it the Great Quaking, the shaking of the worlds as they were flooded and seared and clashed together.

"I doubt Thor had time to teach his sons while he was fighting the Midgard Serpent," Alphonse said dryly. Doc hummed and conceded the point. "Can you fix it?" Alphonse asked.

The dwarves all looked to each other, not needing words with those they had lived and worked with for who-knew how many centuries. There was a lot of eye movement and slight nods and shakes of the head involved, but Alphonse could only vaguely guess at what they meant. Finally, Doc turned back to Alphonse.

"We can make it even better," he answered. But a glint in his eyes spoke of something else.

"What do you want?" Alphonse asked. Technically, his debt was paid by them deciding to help. The quality of their work, like with many creatures, depended on the value of an offering.

"What have you got?" Happy asked jovially. Alphonse pursed his lips in seeming thought, before grinning and removing a parcel from his shoulder, untying it to reveal a number of baked dishes, a quick flick of magic heating them up to steaming goodness. He had to remember to thank Rapunzel for cooking these.

"Apple dumplings," Alphonse held up the dish, the smell of spiced apples floating through the cavern and drawing sniffs from the dwarves, "plum pudding", that got their mouths watering, and even grumpy was not-so-subtly testing the aroma, "and gooseberry pie." That last one was the clincher, and the dwarves nodded to each other.

"According to the rules," Sleepy drawled with a faint yawn, "you just bought up three commissions." Grumpy scowled even deeper at the drowsy dwarf, chafing at having to help even more. Even three-hundred years after meeting Snow White, he was still not comfortable helping outsiders. "Any ideas for the others?" Sleepy continued, either unknowing or uncaring about Grumpy's stink-eye.

Alphonse, from out of his cloak, removed the long, thin branch he had used during his Great Trial hanging from the Scion. Oh, yes. He had an idea or two.

* * *

While the dragon was still screeching its warcry and civilians were running away, Kristoff did the first thing that came to mind: he grabbed a merchant's cart and hurled it at the monster. The wooden cart, with Kristoff's enhanced, Thor-like strength behind it, smashed against the side of the dragon's head and cut off its cry.

The dragon snarled and shook its head, focusing on Kristoff with its hate-filled gaze before snapping its mouth closed and swinging its head back, throat swelling as if would throw up, and lashed its head forward to spew flames from its maw. Kristoff struck the ground and a spire of rock burst from the cobblestones to protect him. Even with that, he could feel the heat of the dragon's fire licking at his skin.

Kristoff yelped as his shield of rock was jerked up, the dragon looming over him with the stone clasped in his talons. The dragon gave a hacking roar, almost a laugh, and swung the stone down.

Kristoff had barely braced himself for death before he was pushed out of the way. He had barely landed when he felt the ground shake under the force of the slab smashing against it. Kristoff looked up to see only a few fingers sticking out of the rubble. Eugene's fingers. The dragon roared in triumph at killing the prince, but the roar cut off at the sound of gravel shifting.

The rubble rose up and fell away to reveal Eugene, covered in dust but otherwise unharmed. The Coronan prince coughed and shook the dust away before standing up and facing the baffled monster.

"That all you go-" The dragon struck the prince with its sinuous tail, sending him flying. Eugene slammed into the side of a building, leaving a crater in the wood and stone before he fell to the ground. The prince stood up and brushed himself off as if nothing had happened.

"As I was saying," he said, popping his neck, "is that all you got?" The dragon, Tore, roared in fury and lunged at Eugene, murder in its foul gaze. Just before it made contact, Eugene leapt forward and rolled under the dragon's belly, letting the creature smash into the building it had knocked him into. Tore smashed through and the building came down on him, burying the creature.

Eugene stood up from his roll, breathing heavily, as Kristoff approached with awe in his gaze. What had just happened?! He had no time to wonder as Tore burst from the rubble, seemingly unharmed.

"Oh, come on!" Eugene cried out, more exasperated than afraid. He glanced to the side to see Kristoff clutching his forearm, hand clenched in a fist and eyes closed in concentration. Faint thunder echoed as the final light of the day faded away and left them with the light of the town's streetlights.

As the dragon roared somewhere in front of them, blue-white light lanced downward with a deafening crash, the remains of the building exploding apart. On instinct, Eugene covered his face to make a smaller target as shrapnel raced past them. Only after it had passed did he remember that it couldn't hurt him anymore.

Eugene opened his eyes to see the dragon sprawled across the ground, its body smoking. Eugene grinned at the carcass, a look that faded as the monster began to shake itself and it stood up to growl at them.

"You've got to be kidding," Eugene grumbled.

"These things are tough," Kristoff commented. He knew exactly what this was from Thor's lessons. A human consumed by greed, twisted into a monster as dark as his heart. They were tough to squash, their armored scales being virtually unbreakable. Odin and Thor had actually had a hobby of fighting them to test their skills. Kristoff grinned in anticipation. "This is gonna be fun."

* * *

In Zuerst, the dwarves were finishing their preparations for forging. Gems studded the walls around them in a cavern deep in the mines, sparkling in the light of the fires. It had been decided that Grumpy and Doc would work the hammers. Sneezy had been chosen to work the bellows (Alphonse secretly figured it was due to his experience in powerful bursts of air).

As they finished preparations, Alphonse approached Sneezy and placed a hand on his forehead. He muttered in that hissing, gravelly language and his eyes flashed, and soft green light lit his palm. Sneezy stared at him before his eyes lit up in fear and he huffed and puffed, ready for a galeforce sneeze. He cried out with a strangled breath … and nothing happened.

Sneezy sniffled and scratched his nose, a little stunned. He looked up to see Alphonse grinning down at him. The mage shrugged, "Couldn't have your hay fever mess up the forging. It's not permanent, but it should last a few days." Sneezy smiled in thanks and nodded. He felt ready to shout for joy, but they had a job to do. And for dwarves, the job was all-but-everything.

"Alright, boys," Doc announced, "time to whit to gerk- uh, woe to grit- ummm, let's go!"

Alphonse reached for the rune of _fire_ within his mind and snapped his fingers, bringing the forge to blazing life. Doc nodded and lifted Mjolnir to place it in the flames, Sneezy taking his place at the bellows. Alphonse stood back and watched; for this, they didn't need his help. Despite their goofy appearances and bizarre quirks, these three and their cohorts were real professionals.

They wouldn't fail.

* * *

Eugene definitely did _not_ scream like a little girl as he flew through the air and slammed into the dragon, sending it flying even as he went unhurt. As the monster shook off its confusion, Eugene leapt to his feet and glared at Kristoff, who had the gall to grin at him - teeth and all.

It was only an instinctive duck to avoid the dragon's claws that prevented a scathing retort. Kristoff could have at least asked before throwing him!

* * *

Alphonse swiped beads of sweat from his brow, his cloak long-since shed, as he focused on channeling magic into the dwarven forge. He wished Elsa were here for this; her magic would have been better for the weapon they were creating (and definitely _not_ because she would have looked utterly stunning as she glittered with sweat in the heat of the forge, not at all!)

He could see the strands of magic woven together by his will, gently easing into the flames and seeping into the metal of the weapon. With a stray thought, he lashed out a strand and burned away his shirt. It was far too hot in here for that! And yet the dwarves were fully clothed, not even sweating all that much as they worked the bellows and hammered at the metal within the fires.

Guess being bred to it had advantages.

With gloves cut of fine dragonskin, Doc reached into the fire and removed their second piece, quickly examining it and nodding in satisfaction as he placed it next to the shining, whole Mjolnir. Doc turned to Alphonse and held out his hand. The mage, never letting the strands of magic, fade away, passed him the branch from his Trial. The bespectacled dwarf took the branch and a lump of iron and plunged them into the flames.

As he did so, Alphonse reached into his mind and embraced the runes of _weapons_ and of _strength_ , of _protection_ and of _force_ , of _luck_ and of _chance_. He carefully wove the metaphysical symbols, the building blocks of reality, into the strands of magic to infuse into the final weapon.

Alphonse breathed to keep himself steady. Now was not the time for mistakes. He only hoped things hadn't gone totally off the rails in his absence. Nah, Elsa was there - what could possibly happen?

* * *

Kristoff groaned with exertion as he gripped the dragon's horns, his brute strength the only thing between him living and him being impaled by the monster. Sweat trailed down his forehead, the veins in his neck and arms bulging as the lethal points drew slowly closer. He pushed as much as he could, pouring every ounce of strength he could into the push - and cried out as the monster drew back with a howl of agony.

The dragon lashed about in fury, swinging Kristoff like a shrieking ragdoll. The ice harvester was flung away and sailed through the air, only to be caught by a snow-white, ice-cold hawk. The bird dropped him, gently, onto the cobblestone before lunging to aide its mistress.

Kristoff stood, rather shakily, and watched with awe as his wife, sister-in-law, and cousin-by-marriage fighting the dragon.

Anna stood some distance away, her new sword strapped to her back, her body gently swaying like grass in the wind, and a faint, fiery aura surrounding her. Vines were springing from cracks in the cobbled streets to wrap around the monster; even as it tore them away, more sprung up to take their place. And yet the princess took it a step further and lit the vines with spectral green fire, drawing a piercing wail from the creature as it attacked the trio.

Elsa stood close to her sister, forming spikes of steel-hard ice to hurl at the creature and conjuring wolves and birds of ice to attack it from all angles. The spikes shattered against the dragon's scaly hide, but its lashing and snarling proved that it was taking at least some form of damage.

And in the middle of it all was Rapunzel, dancing around the creature and lashing out with a whip made of what looked like woven willow branches. Whenever the dragon swiped at her with its claws or tail, Rapunzel was long-since gone, flitting around like a glowing, golden butterfly. On the off-chance she was hit, the wounds healed up without even a scar.

But Kristoff was a realist, and he saw through the surface to the truth of the matter. No matter what they did, it was like a bee stinging a bear. The creature was too big, its scales to tough, its fury too hot to register any real wounds. Thor had warned him that dragons born of wrath and greed, when pushed too far, could slip into a berserker frenzy that made them all-but-unkillable, and the frothing at the dragon's mouth, the rippling of its muscles, the white-hot ire in its gaze had him worried.

As if sensing his realization (and who's to say she didn't), Anna glanced back at him. Clearly she could read his expression like a book, because the triumph in her gaze turned to fear.

Just as he thought, Anna knew what was going through Kristoff's mind. The weird movements and twitching and maybe some kind of sixth sense told her something bad was about to happen. They had to finish this now!

Even as she focused on wrapping the dragon in vines, which was not an easy feat, another part of her had been running through the stories her father had told her as a child. She had remembered what this entire situation reminded her of. The fierce dragon Fafnir, twisted by cursed gold into a dragon much like this who had been killed by the hero Sigurd. Sigurd had killed Fafnir by digging a trench and stabbing it from below.

But one look at the monstrosity and she knew that anything that got too close, even Rapunzel, wouldn't stand much of a chance. It fire was too strong, even for her. And yet there was something else, something about fire and a … bright sorceress?

And like a lock unclicking, it all came together and she drew her new sword. She knew what she had to do.

* * *

Elsa huffed as she snapped her fingers, whirlwinds of snow coalescing into great white wolves that lunged forward at the dragon. And like all the others, they were batted away before they could do much on anything. Rapunzel was clearly tiring as well as her movements became less graceful, her missteps more frequent.

Something was going to give, and the snow Queen had a sinking feeling it was going to be them.

As if in answer, the faint sound of sharp metal echoed through the air. Elsa whipped her head around to see Anna holding her bronze sword, a fierce look in her eyes. She couldn't possibly- Anna bolted forward with a high warcry, her sword shining in the firelight. She drew in close, darted past Rapunzel, and thrust the blade into the creature's chest.

The dragon shrieked a cry so high it shattered nearby windows, forcing Elsa to clasp her hands over her ears. It fixed anna with a glare so full of hate it should have blackened the ground - and Elsa knew what it was going to do. With its dying breath, the dragon spat out its hellish fires to engulf Anna. The dragon fell, its blood spurting to douse the stones beneath it … and Anna was nowhere to be seen.

Elsa stood, stunned, for the briefest moment before she ran forward with a cry of grief. She stumbled to the ground, up to her wrists in grey dragon's blood, searching for her sister. Her hands closed around fine grit and she knew what had happened. The dragon had burned her to ash.

"No …" Elsa whispered, begging for it not to be true. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no … … …" an unending mantra as tears rolled down her cheeks, her face blank. Grief tried to consume her, but she was numb to it, her heart beyond the breaking point to leave … nothing. Anna was gone. She didn't sense Kristoff fall to his knees beside her, didn't hear his hollow cry of sorrow. She didn't feel Rapunzel embrace her, tears in her eyes.

She felt nothing - nothing as her heart began to harden, to freeze.

And then she felt something else. Something moving between her fingers. Elsa glanced down to find the ground moving, something rising up from the grey blood around them. Something long and solid reforming. The thing, shaped like a person, sat up and wiped the blood from her face.

"Eeeeewwwww!" Anna retched, "this is disgusting!" Anna? Anna?! Was it really her wiping the grey fluid from her eyes or hacking and spitting it from her lips. ANNA?!

Elsa darted forward and hugged her sister, part of her having to confirm that she was real, solid. The other part, a part deep down in her soul, knew it was her. Would always recognize her dear little sister.

"El-elsa … Sis- can't- breathe …" Anna choked out before Elsa quickly let her go. Only to be wrapped in the bone-crushing embrace of her husband. And after that her cousin. Forget burning to death, she was gonna die of suffocation. Yes, she loved hugging but this was taking just a little too far! (Of course, given that she had literally been dead, she could understand the need.)

After everyone had made sure she was real, Rapunzel dragged Anna to her feet - to be wrapped in a group hug by her family. "You really should stop this, Anna," Elsa whispered with a sniffle, "you're going to have it stick one of these days."

"Nah, I'm like a cat," Anna answered gently. "Nine lives." Everyone chuckled at that, grateful to anything and everything that Anna was alive and well. As the group hug broke apart, Anna turned to examine the monster she had killed. Was it just her, or did it look just a little smaller in death. It was probably her.

Anna turned on her heel and walked away, the group tracking her progress. "I'm not cleaning that up!" she piped up and ran before Elsa could say otherwise.

* * *

Alphonse was grinning, sort of, as he flew as an eagle across the skies leading to Arendelle. He had what he had needed, the dwarves were happy (even Grumpy, somehow) and he was confident that nothing had gone insanely wrong in his absence.

As he neared Arendelle, the light of the waning gibbous moon lighting his way, that confidence began to waver at the smell of blood wafting from the seaside town. Monster blood. But what could produce so much that he could smell it from so high up? Alphonse dove and landed on a house before Shifting back, his eyes wide in surprise, horror, and fear for his friends.

That was a _dragon_ corpse! The guardsmen were partitioning off and guarding a _dragon's carcass_! Alphonse turned and Shifted again, flying as fast as he could to the castle, to Elsa and her family.

What in the World had he missed?!

 **What do ya'll think about Snow White's dwarves? Brought them in for two reasons:**

 **1) You can't have Norse myth with out dwarves and these are the only Disney dwarves**

 **2) There's some scholarly evidence that the tale of Snow White was partly-inspired by a Norse myth. The story of Brisingamen, Freya's necklace.**

 **In this continuity, dwarves have centuries-long lifespans. Snow white lived about three centuries before the current story (Margaret von Waldeck, the inspirational figure for Snow White, lived in the 1530's-50's and Frozen takes place roughly in the 1840's).**

 **Hope ya'll liked it! Leave a review, they keep me motivated!**


	24. Decisions, Decisions

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Decisions, Decisions**

Elsa smiled gratefully at the maid who laid out the dessert for the night: hazelnut cake with chocolate icing and honey glaze. She glanced at Anna and hid a grin; the princess was literally trembling with anticipation. Elsa picked up her fork and cut off the point of her slice (the best part, as far as she was concerned) and brought it to her lips. Before she could close her lips around it, Anna's fork fell from her grasp as she visibly stiffened.

"Incoming," Anna warned, just before the door to the dining room crashed open, making all but Anna herself jump. Through the doors, past a disheveled and frightened-looking serving man, strode Alphonse. The mage dropped the satchel at his side and discarded his cloak, heading straight for Elsa. The Snow Queen stood, concerned for her … wait, what exactly were they?

"Alphonse?" she asked warily. He didn't answer; he simply cupped the side of her face and stared intently into her eyes. Elsa felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of her face, utterly transfixed by the sheer intensity of Alphonse's gaze. After several tense moments, he seemed to relax and glanced in turn at Anna, Kristoff, Rapunzel, and Eugene. He sighed in relief and nodded to himself before taking a vacant chair.

"Would anyone, and I mean anyone at all, care to explain the _dragon carcass_ in the street?" His tone was almost conversational, but the sheer firmness of his words made it seem as if he had shouted at the top of his lungs. Anna briefly thought about their Papa, who could have the exact same effect … when he was far too angry or stressed for shouting.

For the next hour, the royals at the table explained the events that had occurred over the last sixteen hours. Everything from the sword in the tree and the she-wolf's threat to the dragon attack. Alphonse noticed at both Elsa and Kristoff placed their hands on Anna as they recounted her slaying of the dragon. The mage pushed down warring reactions; pride in her accomplishment and progress in magic, along with disappointment in her recklessness.

He would have to speak with her about that; but that discussion was for a later time.

"All in all," Rapunzel summed up, "I think it's been a pretty good day." Alphonse was silent, and rapunzel smiled self-consciously. Did he not agree? Though she had only met this man two days ago, she still felt the need to prove herself, just as she had when she returned to her parents.

"Well, we haven't gotten the whole story," Anna pointed out, shooting a meaningful glance at Alphonse. "So where have you been? And what's in the bag?" She pointed at the satchel he had left in the middle of the floor. Alphonse simply rose and retrieved the bag before placing it on the table with an audible _thump_ and the _creak_ of straining wood.

Alphonse removed something small from the bag and tossed it to Kristoff. The ice harvester caught it and flicked his wrist, revealing the utterly-rebuilt Mjolnir. Thunder echoed through the walls of the castle in response to the hammer's return. But it was different than before; the head of the weapon was engraved with an intricate oak tree, vines decorating the shaft and handle. The carvings shone with bronze, offsetting the stony appearance of the weapon and the soft new leather of its handle. And the handle was longer, the length of his forearm.

"The Seven Dwarves decided to do better. They studied the original Mjolnir and created their own version, one that is closer to its new wielder. I told them about you, Kristoff, and they created something that more closely balances destruction, Thor's specialty, and creation, yours. This new weapon has all of the previous one's traits and will better channel your connection to the Earth and power to heal." Both Kristoff and Anna looked up at him in confusion, and Alphonse grinned. "Yes, Mjolnir could be used to heal. It was a tool, not just a weapon. This one will do even better. But before you test it out, you need to name it."

"Name it?" Kristoff asked. Alphonse nodded.

"It's your weapon, Kristoff. It was made for you, and you alone. A name for an object, especially a magical weapon, provides something of a guiding force for its very essence. All important things have names, and so you need to name it."

Kristoff looked to Anna, who shrugged with a smile, and to the hammer in his hands. He thought over names that sounded impressive first, but discarded every one. A guiding force? What exactly did he want to use this for anyway? Kristoff looked up to find everyone watching him with expectation and … support. Everyone here cared about him, and he in turn for them. A name popped into his head and he smiled to himself. It was perfect.

"Beskytter," he said. _Protector_. With a crash of thunder and a burst of ethereal flames, the name was carved in runes on the handle of the hammer. Alphonse laughed at Kristoff's wide-eyed look. He was glad the dwarves had decided to imbue the weapon with a post-creative set of runes. Kristoff's reaction, alone, was worth it.

"Speaking of names," Alphonse said to Anna, "have you given Gram its new one?" Anna stared at him before realizing he meant the sword she had gotten. Wait, Gram? Why did that sound familiar? Oh right!

"So it's really that sword?" Anna asked. Alphonse nodded. Anna reached down and drew the bronze sword from its sheath. Gram, the sword that had killed Fafnir just as she had killed the dragon that attacked her home. "Why do I need to name it?" Anna asked, "doesn't it already have a name?" Alphonse looked to Elsa, who smiled and took the reins.

"Gram has many names," Elsa explained. "When it was first forged, it was called Gram, _wrath_. Others called it 'Gramr', some used 'Balmung' meaning 'Siegfried's sword', and a few Nothung."

"Each new wielder gave it a new name," Alphonse took over. "One that reflected how it would be used. And now, Anna, it's your turn."

Anna looked to Kristoff, only returned her previous gesture. Anna grinned; she already had the perfect name! She stood and held the sword aloft, the light from the torches lighting it like a torch. "Heidur!" she proclaimed. _Honor_. The blade seemed to shimmer at the sound of its new name. With a flourish, she replaced the weapon in its sheath.

"So, what else did you get?" Rapunzel asked. Alphonse reached into the bag and removed … something that shouldn't have been able to fit. On Alphonse's arm was a buckler shield of dark metal, runes carved around the outside. A faint mist seemed to hang over the shield, like cold metal brought into a hot room.

"This is a copy of Svalinn, the shield of the Sun." He passed it to Rapunzel. "The original shield was lost during Ragnarok, if not destroyed. The current sun rides far enough away that the shield is moot." Alphonse's gaze hardened. "Whatever Hati promised to do, the Maras take their word very seriously. And even I don't know what she will do to grow strong enough to kill you. You'll need this."

Rapunzel took the shield and fitted it onto her forearm. The weight of the metal was no problem; Rapunzel was far stronger than she looked. But the metal itself was foggy for a reason; it was cold as ice! _Colder_ than ice! And yet, it really didn't bother her. Rapunzel looked up at a _whoosh_ ing sound to find Alphonse's hand filled with blue fire. He gestured for her to get ready and hurled the flames at her; she hid behind the shield, the flames dousing with a faint hiss as they made contact.

"I'd say they did a pretty decent job," Alphonse commented. Elsa briefly wondered when her family's definition of "normal" eroded enough to mean having magical fire tossed at you was no big deal.

"And now the best for last!" Anna said. Alphonse shifted uneasily before shrugging and once again reaching into his satchel. This time he removed a long, pale staff, runes carved in swirling patterns along its length. Wait, not a staff; a spear! Capping the shaft was a leaf-shaped iron spearhead, runes etched in both sides of the blade. Alphonse hefted the spear onto his shoulder, the runes faintly glowing with blue light.

"This is Skordare," he intoned. _Harvester_.

"So this is the new Gungnir?" Rapunzel asked. Everyone looked to her, bringing a faint pink tint her her cheeks. "What? I read too, you know." Elsa chuckled and Alphonse nodded in respect.

"Al destroyed his staff getting us to Elsa's Ice Palace when it was attacked," Kristoff explained. "Guess he needed a replacement." As Kristoff was talking, Elsa was staring at the head of the spear. The shaft was pale, almost white, until the last foot or so, which was stained a vibrant crimson. His spear was the branch he had impaled himself with.

As Kristoff and Anna told the story of the Palace Siege, as many of Arendelle's poets and songwriters were calling it, Elsa placec her hand on Alphonse's, drawing his attention. She gave him a faint smile, trying to reassure him. Of what, she didn't know. She just felt that he needed it. Alphonse smiled in turn and laced their fingers, both relaxing at the contact.

* * *

Hati stomped across the island of her Forloper, her stride graceful even in fury. The image of Sunna giving her that "promise" kept replaying in her mind, the sheer dedication of her words mocking her. The woman was not afraid of her. And given the reports on their battle with the dragon, supplied by some of Loki's spies, that courage was not unfounded.

As she approached her pack, all of the women looked to her awaiting orders. Hati twitched her hand, a signal to relax; the she-wolves did just that. She passed by a number of haugens, creatures born from masses of stone or plant matter fused with restless spirits; they weren't jotun, but they were close enough for Loki's purposes. A small group of ogres slept underneath some trees; Loki had promised them easy meat after Arendelle had been conquered.

In the distance, a circle of dark-vala, witches who served chaos and decay, circled a large fire, their chanting muffled even to her superior hearing. That had been a particular stroke of luck (or fate) finding that coven. Most vala served healing and order, and part of their work was destroying dark-vala. The oath-breaker Alphonse had killed no small number himself. As such, almost all that dotted Arendelle and surrounding lands were little more than dabblers, learning dregs of magic for petty revenge. But these nine - they were mistresses, true vala.

Finally, Hati approached her Forloper. Loki, or rather Hans at the moment, was honing his sword technique, numerous illusions of the Arendelle royals scattered across his chosen field. With grace that rivalled her own, quite impressive for a man, he decimated the targets in a chaotic series of movements, his dark sword a blur of motion. With a final thrust, he impaled the image of the Snow Queen, the illusion fading to dust, and he laughed cruelly.

"If you have something you wish to say, Hati, you should come out and do so," Hans called out with his back to her. Hati, after a moment of surprise, huffed and approached as Hans turned to her. Hati growled as the image of Sunna yet again flashed across her mind's eye.

"Make me strong," Hati demanded. "Sunna has accepted my challenge, but your spies have reported that they killed Tore with ease. Clearly, if I am to avenge my brothers, I must be more powerful." Hans lifted an eyebrow, a sardonic grin spread across his lips.

"And how, perchance, would you expect me to do that?" he asked. The look in his eyes told her that he knew exactly what she would say. Another flash of Sunna and her resistance was burned away by anger.

"The dark-vala. They will listen to you; everyone does. Have them find a way to ensure my victory. If I can blacken the sun-child, it will severely weaken your enemies." That was true; the spies and the dark-vala's scrying had shown that Sunna was a powerful opponent.

"Ah, I see," Hans replied. "So allow me another question. Why exactly should I ask them to do such a thing?" Hati actually took a step back in surprise. Clearly he was joking! She had just given him all the reason he needed! Then she noticed how his eyes had darkened, how they wandered over her. Hati paled as she realized what he really meant: What exactly was she willing to give for his help?

Hati growled and leapt at Hans, knocking him onto his back. Taking just a moment to revel in his surprise, Hati dove in and met his lips in a searing kiss. The Maras knew exactly how men thought, and Loki had been anything but an exception. There was one form of payment that they would never turn down. And if she was going to pay that price, she would do it in _her_ terms.

Hans flicked his wrist and conjured a curtain of dense fog to hide them and muffle their _activities_ ; he was a prince and his dignity would be preserved. As soon as the curtain was in place, he grabbed Hati's wrists and turned her over with a squeal. He leered at her as pride burned inside her eyes, as well as her more animalistic urges.

This would be a night to remember.

* * *

As the curtain of fog rose around the trickster and his mistress, a small entity was watching from the forest and gave a faint, echoing sigh before disappearing. The creature reappeared deep in the forests, bobbing up and down as it waited. The creature was a Will o' the wisp, a spirit tied to the land. These sprites, though enigmatic, could glimpse the threads of fate and guide those to their destiny.

Out of the trees, or rather out of _a tree_ , strode a young woman dressed only in a blanket wrapped around her chest as a dress. The woman knelt and scooped up the Wisp to bring it to eye level. The Wisp whispered to her what it had seen, sharing with its friend. As soon as it finished, the Wisp disappeared with a sigh.

The girl looked up into the trees, the wind in the branches giving whisperings that only she could hear. All were aware of Loki's rebirth, of the threat that faced the Ashland community. The royals of Arendelle had so-far served to distract Loki, to channel his madness and thirst for chaos into a small area. But if they fell, then the world would burn with his madness.

The girl nodded to the trees and began walking. A Wisp reappeared before her, beckoning her. As she drew near, it disappeared and reappeared further on. The girl nodded with a quirk of a smile that faded to solemness. She had a lot of ground to cover in one night.

* * *

Far from Arendelle, in the bogs at the edge of its lands, a young man dressed in rough wool sat cross-legged and focused on his task. An older man, dressed like the younger with a leather jerkin, sat opposite him, stroking his trimmed beard as he watched. Though they could not be related, they shared one key aspect: four slash marks across their faces; the boys were down one side of his face, forehead to jawline, while the man's were diagonal from temple to jaw. All men who lived here had these marks.

The young man panted as he tried to maintain his task. He held his hands before him, an orange werelight glowing above his palms. The young man as trembling, sweat dripping from his brow. The older man narrowed his eyes and drew breath to stop him, but the boy huffed and released the werelight, relaxing as he drew air into his starving lungs.

"Well done," the man said, and the youth gave a tired smile. Both men stood up and returned to the Hamlet. The Hamlet was a small circle of stone cabins around a large firepit, massive trees and swampland surrounding it and protecting it. Will o' the wisps floated through the air, their kind attracted to this place of refuge. This place of refugees.

As the older man and his charge sat on their knees before the firepit, a few dozen other boys and men wandering in to join. All who lived here were allowed to do what they wished, within reason and their code, but all who lived here had their dinner together. The packs may have spurned them, but it didn't mean that they had to give up on the idea of family. They were a clan.

As everyone got settled, one man dressed in a dust cloak loped into the Commons, a bundle clutched to his chest. From the head cabin strode the Elder, the unofficial leader of the Hamlet. He was marked by three scars that ran from his lower lip to his chin, his sleeveless jerkin revealing the scars on his arm that outnumbered any of them. The Elder approached the Runner and gently moved the cloth aside, revealing a thin, exhausted baby boy. A baby boy with thick scars across his face. The elder and the runner met gazes and nodded.

Without needing a summons, a wiry man, also marked, led a large, fat cow into the Commons, its fur long enough to drag on the ground. The Keeper stopped the cow before the fire, where it was warmest, and clicked his tongue; the cow sat at the command. The Runner approached as the cow rolled to its side and brushed away its hair to reveal the cow's udders. Straight from the cow, he fed the baby boy.

As the men and boys watched the acceptance of one of their own, another figure approached the Elder. He was marked out by the spirals cut into the tops of his hands, but otherwise was just like the others.

"What is it, Seer?" the Elder asked. The Seer, the Elder's traditional second-in-command, hesitated before answering.

"The Dream has repeated, three by three by three," he whispered. The elder's eyes widened and he looked to the stars, to the dancing Lights that could be seen above the fire. The foretold Dream, three nights in a row. The sign that the Trickster had been reborn. That all of them were being reborn. "He sets his sights on the Crocus," the Seer added heavily.

After dinner had been served and finished, the Elder took his place on the stone before the fire, the first stone laid in the Hamlet by the first members of the clan. He swept his gaze over the clan, all men and boys watching him silently. "The signs have shone, the time is here," he intoned. "The Trickster has emerged, his madness ready to burn the world again." He sighed and his eyes hardened.

"We know what must be done. The smooth and the sheared," the boys and the retired elders, "will stay. The Runners will continue to search. Hunters," everyone else, "we run for the Crocus at dawn." All of the clan barked in acknowledgement.

And just as the Elder had ordered, at first light, all men of the Hamlet, of the clan, stood before the edge of their home. Dressed in rough wool and leather jerkins, their chests criss-crossed with leather straps holding knives and with spears on their backs, the Hunters of their clan charged for the kingdom of the Crocus. For Arendelle.

They may have been abandoned, but they would not abandon the world to fate.

* * *

As dawn broke over the mountains of Arendelle, Anna sat up with a gasp. She had had another dream; she just knew it. Rough men with slashed faces and focused fury in their eyes. And they were headed for Arendelle.

As Anna prepared to get up and warn Elsa, she paused. Thinking back, she hadn't felt _threatened_ by these men. Yes, they had seemed dangerous, like they knew how to fight, but she hadn't felt that they meant harm; at least, not to her and her people. Anna sat back down, unconsciously taking Kristoff's hand as he gently snored.

Today was the second day of Kvasir's Peace. After that, war would break loose. What would they do today?

 **A gold star to anyone who can identify the inspiration for the clan. What do ya'll think? Are there enemies or allies on the march?**

 **For those of you who wonder why Elsa didn't get a weapon: she doesn't need one. She can make any weapon for any situation.**

 **Special Thumbs-Up to reader "Shawn Raven". Thanks for the reviews, dude. They really helped me push to finish this chapter!**

 **Seriously guys, reviews make me happy; don't hesitate! Also special mention to author Joseph Delany; his character Grimalkin of the "Wardstone Chronicles" inspired the clan's sheaths.**


	25. As Forces Draw Near

**Chapter Twenty-Four: As Forces Draw Near**

Rapunzel had always considered herself an early riser. Even when she moved into her parents' castle, she was almost always the first in her family to prepare for the day. Her parents often worked late into the night and consequently made up for it in the mornings, while Eugene himself had never been much of a morning person at all.

Given that experience, it was quite a surprise to find not one but _two_ people at the breakfast table before her.

Elsa was giggling as she finished weaving a thin braid to frame the side of Alphonse's face, falling right beside his defined, and at the moment very pink cheekbone. The rest of his hair was tied in a loose tail, a stark contrast to the ebony curtain that usually framed his face. Rapunzel, her presence still unknown, thought it made him seem … freer, more open. And she had never seen Elsa play with anyone's hair, not even Anna's.

"You two are so cute," Rapunzel commented, causing both to flinch in surprise, eyes wide. Ah, so they expected to be alone? That only made it cuter! Rapunzel sat across from Elsa and helped herself to some porridge. "Sorry about interrupting," she said lightly. Both Elsa and Alphonse turned red and glanced at each other before fidgeting and starting their breakfast.

"So Elsa, what's the plan for today?" Rapunzel asked, her constant enthusiasm never wavering. Elsa smiled at the question.

"I'm glad you asked, Rapunzel. A few months ago, I decided to take a leaf from your book." Rapunzel tilted her head to the side, like she always did when she was confused. "You and Eugene make a point of interacting with your people every week; or that's what you said in one of your letters." Rapunzel nodded, her smile showing she knew where this was going. "I've decided to try and do the same. Anna constantly says I should get out of the castle, and recent events," she glanced at Alphonse with a grin, "have shown that she's right. I was actually planning to start this week anyway."

Rapunzel clapped in excitement. In her time spent in Arendelle, she knew that the people adored their queen. This would be good for them; and it would be good for Elsa to take a regular break from the monotony of paperwork (she would know; Rapunzel hated paperwork).

"Why don't you take Alphonse and I with you?" she asked suddenly. Both seemed surprised by the suggestion, but Rapunzel ploughed through. When she had an idea, it usually kept unfolding in a line of intuition. "The people haven't been introduced to him yet, right?" She knew she was right; it would have shown up in their stories otherwise. "So use this as an opportunity to introduce them to their new hero." She smirked. "To their queen's hero," she added suggestively.

Elsa kept her face neutral at that last part, but she had to admit that Rapunzel had a good point. Alphonse had been responsible for saving Arendelle itself at least twice, and that was not counting the times he had saved the royal family. Elsa looked to Alphonse, the question in her eyes. Alphonse looked away and back before nodding.

"I'll do what you think is best," he answered. Elsa gave him a soft smile. Seems they were all going to town today.

* * *

As the sun rose through the sky that morning, a young farmer's son was leading his mule laden with crops to the city. He had done this a hundred times before, and would continue to do so for the rest of his life. Some would call it boring; he called it secure.

But unlike other times, his path was halted by something that made his eyes widen in surprise. A ball of blue light, vaguely shaped like a person, was bobbing close to the ground. It made quiet whispering noises as it beckoned him closer. This was a Will o' the wisp, just as his gramma had spoken of in her stories.

The farmer took a step back in suspicion. Like most of those who lived in and around Arendelle, he was not frightened of magic itself; the queen's benevolent powers showed that it was not all evil. But that didn't mean creatures of the supernatural could not be mischievous, if not outright harmful.

A rustling in the trees jerked his attention from the wisp, and he clutched the carved rod he carried in case of bandits. It came as quite a shock when something far different than bandits tumbled from the trees.

It was a girl … a beautiful girl. She had shining chestnut hair that fell past her waist like a smooth waterfall, framing a dainty face. Large brown eyes gazed at him with both tiredness and fear. A blanket was wrapped around the girl's body in place of a dress, reaching her knees, and dirt marred her bare feet. She stood with her hands folded before him, a picture of demureness.

"Excuse me," she asked, "how far away is Arendelle?" The young farmer stood for several moments, simply staring as a blush creeped up his neck and painted his cheeks. He swallowed before gesturing vaguely down the road.

"F-f-few hours," he oh-so-eloquently explained. The girl's features lit up with joy, making her even more beautiful than before and she giggled and kissed his cheek before bolting down the road, her laugh like an angel's echoing from the trees.

For several moments, the young farmer stood rooted in his spot, watching the place where he had last seen the mysterious girl. After a while he shook it off, assuming it was merely a daydream, and moved his mule along.

There was no way such a lovely girl would be all the way out here.

* * *

As the sun continued its trek through the sky, Anna sank down to her knees in one of the castle gardens. Yes, she had heard about Elsa, Rapunzel, and Alphonse taking a trip into town, but she couldn't shake off the Dream she'd had. She needed to know about these men that were coming.

Anna took a deep breath and let it out, repeating the action until she felt as calm as could be. She connected herself to magic and gently separated her Awareness from her body, just as Freya had taught her.

 _Anna took a moment to look at herself while in this state. She grinned as she wondered what anyone would think seeing her perfectly still. They'd probably think that the world was ending. Then again, it probably would if they weren't successful. Anna glanced at Kristoff leaning against a tree, hammer held loosely in his fist as he kept his senses open for danger. Anna marvelled at the aura that seemed to trickle around him, from the crown of his head and down. Like the Lights that swam through the night skies._

 _Anna shook herself, unnecessary in her spirit-form but still good for focus, and looked up. Criss-crossing the sky was a series of thin, glowing strings. Freya had described them as the Threads of Fate that connected the pieces of Destiny's Web, visible only to those deemed worthy to see them. She had never said exactly who chose whom to see them, but it didn't matter - Anna could see them._

 _The princess floated up and examined the threads. A closer look showed that they were not just one, but rather a loose braid of thin strings of … something. Each one was a different color and they would came together above the castle, woven together for some distance, and then split off into separate directions. The threads were constantly shifting; swaying in the non-existent winds, dissolving as important events and people broke apart, reforming as more came back together._

 _After some time examining the threads in front of her, Anna gently grasped a violet-and-gold thread between her fingers. The princess yelped as the thread jerked her along, speeding across the material world at impossible speeds. After what seemed like only a few moments, Anna arrived at a large plain. A large group was moving across the plain, the thread seeming to form from their collective life energies. It rose as motes of energy before condensing and weaving into the thread that she had followed._

 _Anna appeared before them, floating to keep up as she examined one of the strange men at the edge of the formation. He couldn't be any older than his mid-twenties, and yet his hair was shot through with streaks of grey. All of them had grey in their hair. His eyes were brown, the whites somehow tinted violet. In the Spirit World, his scars glowed a faint sickly green. All of the men were moving fast with a loping stride. The sight of their movement tickled something in her memory, but it was forgotten as the man before her glanced to the side and his eyes narrowed. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he looked into her eyes!_

 _The man gave a sound suspiciously like a bark and the formation immediately slowed to a halt, all of them men turning in her direction. Had she been in her body, Anna wasn't sure if she would have blushed from the sudden attention or paled in fear. Freya had said that only a powerful mage could sense her in this form - what_ were _these guys?!_

 _The formation parted to reveal the oldest of them (or he looked like it, anyway). The man lifted his palm toward her, fingers splayed, and she unconsciously mirrored the action. Their hands would have met had she been solid, and visions flashed across her mind's eye: snarling wolves, crying infants, tears falling. The visions stopped as fast as they had begun and she looked to the leader. He nodded to her and continued on, the formation following._

 _Anna hadn't a moment to think before a green-gold thread tied around her waist, the connection to her body, tightened and yanked her back. The landscape sped by in a blur as she moved ever faster. Anna's eyes widened in fear as a dark lump of fog materialized beside her, keeping pace. It condensed into a feminine shape that leered at her before screeching and flying away as they neared the castle. Anna calmly braced herself-_

And fell back as she reentered her body. She barely had a moment to gasp before Kristoff was helping her up, asking if she was alright. Anna nodded and allowed him to help her up before throwing her arms around his neck. Kristoff was surprised for a moment before he melted into the embrace.

After a few moments, Anna broke away to begin telling him what she had found out. "The guys from my Dream will arrive by nightfall. And-" she thought about those feminine shadows, "I need to talk to Freya." She would talk to Alphonse, but she didn't want to interrupt his time with Elsa.

Anna sat back down and concentrated inward, reaching for the deepest parts of her being as questions flew through the outskirts of her mind. Who were these men? Were they all magicians? What were those figures in the Spirit World? After some time, she opened her eyes to find herself in a small clearing scattered with broken stones, remnants of statues. On a statue's dismembered head sat the alluring Freya.

" _How can I help?" the goddess asked._

* * *

As Elsa and Rapunzel led the way into the town of Arendelle, Alphonse hung back and tried to remain inconspicuous. Granted, he was taller than both women, but perhaps the presence of their queen and the princess of Corona would draw their attention away? As people approached to greet the royals, others hung back and stared at Alphonse, whispering behind their hands.

Apparently not.

Alphonse was loathe to admit it, but he was not at all comfortable with this idea. Even as a child, before everything had been taken from him and he had been picked up by those damned birds, he had never been comfortable around crowds. That sensation had only grown as he learned magic and became involved in the Ashland community.

So engrossed in his thoughts and the sick feeling in his gut, Alphonse flinched at the feeling of someone's hand on his shoulder. He relaxed when he realized it was Elsa, looking at him with concern shining in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked. Alphonse wrung part of his cloak in his hands before gently shaking his head.

Elsa gave him a kind smile and brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. "Relax," she said, "they'll love you." Here words summoned numerous memories of towns just like this one chasing him out with farming tools and torches, blaming him for the monster he had killed for them or simply fearing the magic he used. Needless to say, the queen's words didn't help much. Elsa opened her mouth to tell him to return to the castle, but she didn't get the chance.

"People of Arendelle!" Rapunzel shouted with joy, "it is my pleasure to formally introduce the man who saved your kingdom and your queen!" She turned and gestured to Alphonse, who paled and wrapped his cloak around himself. Elsa shot Rapunzel a cool look of disapproval, which made the princess fidget.

Alphonse was about to simply turn into a raven and fly away when he felt something tug at the hem of his cloak. The mage looked down to find a young girl persistently tugging, an excited smile on her face. She tugged again, and Alphonse realized she wanted him to come down to her level. Instead, Elsa gracefully knelt to address the child.

"Did he really save you, your majesty?" the girl asked. Elsa smiled warmly and gently bopped the girl's nose.

"Yes, he did. He's my hero," she answered honestly. The little girl gasped and latched herself onto Alphonse's leg in a hug.

"Thank you, mister Alphonse!" she said. "Thank you for saving our queen!" The little girl let go and ran to her mother, talking excitedly about the "nice queen's hero". Like the crack in a dam, more children approached to ask questions. "Is it true you have magic, like the queen?" "Did you kill that big snake in the fjord?" "How did you save the queen?" Pretty soon, even the adults were trying to ask questions, shouting over each other to be heard by the queen and her champion.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, drawing attention to Rapunzel. "Wouldn't it be better to hear the actual story?" she asked loudly. The crowd spoke to each other before shouting in agreement, shouting for the story.

Elsa and Alphonse looked to each other and Elsa smiled mischievously. She summoned her magic and fired it into the sky, bringing snow to fall upon the town and drawing gasps and awe from the crowd. She gestured at Alphonse, prompting him to do something.

Alphonse grinned, his apprehension fading away, and embraced the flow of magic. Harnessing the rune of fire, just as he had on the night of the draugr attack, Alphonse flicked his wrist to spin a rope of fire that shot through the air, twisting and turning into the shape of a dragon. The construct of fire turned in on itself to morph into a collection of fiery butterflies that scattered into the winds.

"If you must blink," Alphonse said as he willed fog to rise from the fjord, "do it now. For if you look away, if you fidget, if you waver in the slightest, our heroes will surely perish!" He cast images into the fog, illustrations of their tale.

All three smiled in anticipation.

* * *

Far from the castle, on Loki's new island, a woman dressed only in a black chemise gasped in ecstasy as her Awareness returned to her body. She giggled and stood up to stretch, showing off her curves. All of her kind were young and lovely, thanks to the dark magics they employed. As she gently traced with elaborate tattoo of black thorns that traced the side of her face, from the temple to the cheekbone, a chill ran up her spine as she sensed someone behind her, watching her. She glanced backward to find Loki (or was it Hans now?) watching her with lidded eyes.

The witch took her time dressing in her off-the-shoulder black dress before tying back her waist-length hair in an elaborate braid. Only then did she step off the stone pedestal she had been working on and address the fallen prince.

"What did you discover?" Hans asked. The dark-vala shrugged elegantly with a sultry grin before answering.

"She has potential," the vala answered, "and learns quite fast. But she is still weak. Freya was the best of us," she grit her teeth as she said so; just because it was true didn't mean she had to like it, "but she has none of the skill of goddess." The witch chuckled as she brought to mind the girl's wide-eyed fear at the sight of her in the Spirit World. Yes, the girl was weak, inexperienced.

"Then why is she still alive?" Hans asked snidely. The witch looked up at him with narrowed eyes. Yes, she was insulted by his lack of respect, but more than that how had he known so clearly that the princess still lived? As if sensing her internal question, Hans scowled.

"I know that all of them are alive," he growled, eye twitching. "Their lives claw at my soul like the sound of metal scratching across stones. All of them. The Snow Queen, the Princess, the Mage. Even the Sun and my enemy's son." Hans bared his teeth at the thought of Baldr's heir. He had been insufferable during the Eternal Winter when he and his wife had tried to help with such … _purity_ , and his very existence was an insult to Loki. He hardened his gaze, throwing the witch off guard with channeled madness. "So … why is she alive?" he asked.

The dark-vala hesitated before answering. "The sorcerer has protected the castle with runic wards. None of my sisters can come close to the place. Even being in the city itself is ... difficult." It galled her to admit that a mere _man_ was so talented with magic. Odin himself had been the standard for which the few men brave or foolish enough to dabble had striven for. In older times, these men were ridiculed for using magic, a woman's power, even as they were grudgingly respected for their powers.

"So your 'powers' are useless, then," Hans grinned. The dark-vala hissed in fury.

"We are still powerful," she all-but-shouted. "We could wipe that overgrown fishing village off the map! One man cannot stop us, now matter who he was Before!" Hans lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look into his eyes. The dark-vala couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks. Yes, she was decades older than him, but he truly was a handsome specimen.

"I never doubted it, and clearly neither do you." He grinned savagely. "And speaking of said powers," he stepped aside to reveal one of the Maras; a pack leader, judging by the symbol burned into her cheekbone. The witch leered at the she-wolf even as the woman's expression remained stony. Their sisterhoods had never been "friendly" even at the best of times. "Hati, here, wishes to slay the new Sunna. What can you do to … ensure her success?" Hans asked. The vala approached the she-wolf and circled her, eyes moving up and down. The witch could sense a cloud of shame surrounding her, suppressed by pride and fury. She giggled at the thought of how _that_ could have happened.

"I have a few ideas," the vala admitted. "But she'll have to be given over to me and my sisters for anything significant." The vala looked Hati in the eyes. "Exactly what are you willing to do, she-wolf?" she asked.

Hati glared right back. "Whatever it takes, witch," she growled. The vala sneered and mentally summoned the rest of her coven. She glanced at Hans, who had yet to leave. The message was clear: I will stay. The vala shrugged in ambivalence as her coven approached and surrounded the she-wolf.

They had work to do.

* * *

Rapunzel watched from her seat on a large cart as Alphonse showed his powers to the people of Arendelle. First, he had shapeshifted to entertain children, first into an eagle and then into a wolf. Using his newly acquired charms, he had healed a number of people from injuries and had caught arrows out of the air, both with his hands and simply stopping them in mid-air.

Now he was playing what he had called the "Fenris Game". He had told the kids and their parents to gather whatever they could to tie him up, challenging that he could break it all. They had started with ribbons and string, which had been easy. Then they had moved up to ropes of varying thicknesses, also snapped. Now they were trying a heavy iron chain, which a sailor was wrapping around his arms and shoulders.

After it was secure, Alphonse had closed his eyes and muttered in that unhearable language, his eyes flying open with a blue flash. An arc of orange light shot across the loops of the chain, severing it from the mage's body. The citizens had cheered, and Rapunzel smiled as Alphonse blushed.

Rapunzel watched intently as Elsa approached, saying something that made Alphonse laugh before they simply looked into each other's eyes. Rapunzel giggled at the sight that brought a hush to the crowd. Was this how she and Eugene were after she had been brought home? It would actually explain a lot.

Rapunzel only looked away at the sound of a commotion coming through the crowds. Curiosity piqued, Rapunzel moved to intercept the commotion, years of settling disputes in her own kingdom instilling habit. Upon a closer look, a guardsman was pushing his way through the crowds, escorting a young woman. Rapunzel gasped at the state of the man; his nose was bleeding and his skin was pale, even as his face was red with a blush. His voice was hoarse as he ordered for the crowd to move.

Rapunzel focused and began singing under her breath, summoning the magic within her. Her short hair turned blonde and her hands glowed with golden light as she placed them on the guardsman's head, letting the light heal him of whatever was wrong. As her light faded away, the guardsman coughed and shook his head before glancing around in confusion. "Where am I?" he asked. "The last thing I remember is-"

The crowd's collective gasp cut the soldier off. Rapunzel spun around to find Elsa and Alphonse trying to calm the girl that the guardsman had been escorting as she wrung something between her hands and tears streaked her cheeks. Concern rising, Rapunzel ran toward them.

"Elsa, what's going-?" The princess couldn't help but gasp as she finally realized what the girl was holding. It was a tail - _her_ tail! The crowd was drawing closer, some shouting and pointing at the girl even as she sobbed. The girl latched onto Alphonse and buried her face into his chest as if to hide.

"Elsa?" Rapunzel asked, hoping to get a word in edgewise. Before the Snow Queen could answer, little balls of light - Will o' the wisps - appeared in a circle around them. With a sigh like a howling wind, blue flames rose up and swirled around them, obscuring the crowds.

"Oh now what?" Elsa groused.

 **Sorry about the long wait everyone - new job, getting used to it. And another sorry to anyone who was expecting Merida - she won't be appearing.**

 **Leave a review guys, tell me what you think. The final battle is fast approaching!**


	26. Mending of Bridges

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Mending of Bridges**

It was around noon when Eugene finally got out of bed, every inch of his body aching. Just before bed, the ex-thief had read up on Hodr's notes about Baldr's invulnerability and had uncovered something none of the stories or poetry had spoken of: the price. All magic, no matter how small or simple, required something to anchor it. In the case of the unspeakably powerful enchantment that Frigga, Baldr's mother, had woven to make it happen, the price was actually fairly simple.

Phantom pains.

Echoes of the impacts and injuries that should have assailed Eugene where seething from the surface of his skin to the marrow in his bones. It wasn't crippling, but it was unpleasant. And it made the simple _thought_ of moving almost unbearable. Eugene flexed his left hand, the one he would forever remember being healed by Rapunzel, and wished she could do the same for his entire body. It might not work (apparently magic was pretty picky about the whole "price" thing), but it was worth a shot.

Finally, just before noon, Eugene couldn't take staying in bed any longer. Sure, he gave off the whole "lazy cat" vibe, but at heart he couldn't stand being bedridden. He wanted, _needed_ , to move, to stretch his muscles and push his limits. It was one of the things that had made him a great thief, that innate desire to _move_.

Gritting his teeth against the aches, Eugene rolled out of bed with a hissing groan and gingerly dressed himself. He grit his teeth and strode through the castle with as much of his usual swagger as he could muster, face set in a faint scowl against his discomfort. After several minutes of walking, he slowly realized that it was helping his condition, if only a little. With that thought, he redoubled his efforts to find any of the royals in the castle (preferably Rapunzel.)

Finally, Eugene found Anna and Kristoff in one of the gardens, quietly discussing something. Upon his approach, which he made no attempt to hide, the stopped and smiled at him.

"Everything okay?" Eugene asked with a quizzical look. The couple glanced at each other and both smiled.

"Yeah," Anna said, "I think so. Y'know, if nothing else comes along." As soon as the words left her mouth, she shrieked at the sight of a whirl of blue flames that rose in the center of the garden. The flames receded as fast as they had come, leaving Rapunzel, Elsa, Alphonse, and an unknown woman in a circle of faintly-charred grass.

Anna's eyebrows shot up at the sight of a woman (who was not Elsa) hiding her face in Alphonse's chest, even if the mage seemed uncomfortable. The princess's gaze was drawn down by a faint sigh to see a small figure of blue light bobbing above the ground. The woman, looking away from her "hiding place", gave a watery smile and scooped up the creature in delicate hands.

"Thank you," she whispered. The wisp sighed again and disappeared.

"Why are you here, Viola?" Alphonse asked, his tone carrying a hint of sharpness. The woman, Viola, turned and regarded Alphonse with surprise. Before she could answer, Anna hissed in pain. She looked down to find Kristoff clutching her hand in a deathgrip, his face pale and jaw set in muted rage.

"Get out," Kristoff growled. Viola gulped and took a step back, hands clutched to her chest in a display that seemed almost too innocent. Kristoff slammed his hammer to the ground, causing a slight tremor. "I said get out, you little-!" He was cut off from violence by both Anna and Alphonse holding him back.

"Kristoff, what's gotten into you?" Anna asked. She had never seen her husband react like this, and if she were perfectly honest it was scaring her a little. Kristoff stopped struggling and picked up his hammer; he didn't swing it, but he clutched it so hard the veins in his wrists protruded.

"She's an Ulda," Kristoff spat. "A harlot of the forest that lures men into the woods never to be seen again." The anger drained from Kristoff's gaze, and sorrow seemed to wash over him. "I can't count how many of my friends have been taken away by these … things." He spat the last word like a curse.

"That's enough," Alphonse said, his tone harder than stone. He looked to Viola with an uncompromising glare. "Viola, you know what to do." The girl gulped and sighed before opening her mouth wide, her tongue out. Alphonse cupped her chin and examined her closely before letting her go. "Your clean," he determined. The sound of Elsa clearing her throat drew the mage's attention.

"Care to tell us about your friend?" Elsa asked, derision all but dripping from her tone. Alphonse lifted an eyebrow in surprise at Elsa's remark, but let it pass for the moment.

"She's a huldra," Alphonse explained, "a spirit of the forest. They can be … pretty free with their desires, and they have a reputation for attracting travellers and those who work in the woods; it's not hard to think that some would target ice harvesters." He glanced at Viola. "No offense," he offered.

"None taken," Viola replied with a shrug.

"All Ashlander creatures can fall prey to what I call 'corruption'", Alphonse continued. "They become malevolent and begin to prey on humans without consequence. When huldra fall, they become 'skogsra', and their tongue and mouth take on a brown discoloration." He glanced at the group, who were all either looking at them or, in Kristoff's case, watching Viola. "What the Sami people call 'Ulda' are really skogsra."

After his explanations, the group seemed to have mixed feelings about Viola's presence. Kristoff was clearly still mistrustful, his eyes narrowed at the huldra. Anna seemed supportive of her husband, though open to compromise. Eugene seemed to be hiding a grin (for whatever reason), and Rapunzel looked pensive. Elsa just seemed irritated by the whole situation, a fact the still confused him.

The tension was broken by the sudden arrival of Kai. "Your majesties," he greeted, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief, "thank goodness. The aldermen have assembled and are requesting your presence, Elsa." Kai and Gerda had taken care of Elsa and Anna since they were born, and had long-since grown beyond titles apart from formal occasions.

Elsa sighed and straightened her dress before motioning for Kai to lead the way. No doubt the aldermen, heads of the Arendelle community elected to act as mediaries between the townspeople and the crown, were wondering about Elsa disappearing in a whirl of clearly-supernatural fire.

On instinct, Alphonse moved to follow, but Elsa stopped him with a dark glare, halting him in his tracks. The message was clear: this is not your business. With an elegant huff, she followed her majordomo to address the aldermen. As he watched her leave, Alphonse could only wrack his brain for what he could have done to so quickly sour Elsa's good mood. He was jerked from his thoughts by eugene clapping his arm on the mage's shoulder.

"You're hopeless, you know that?" he asked. Ordinarily, Alphonse would have delivered a glare that would make monsters sol their loincloths, but he sensed no teasing in Eugene's words. Only an unspoken offer for help, to which he nodded. Eugene turned to address Rapunzel.

"Think you three can talk to this Viola chick and figure out her story?" he asked. Rapunzel nodded with a smile and gently took Viola by the arm, leading her away with Anna and a reluctant Kristoff trailing behind. Finally, the Coronan prince fixed Alphonse with a knowing grin.

"So, Alphonse my man, let's see if we can hash out your love troubles," he said cheerily.

* * *

After a few minutes of walking, Rapunzel was fairly certain that they were alone and turned to address their new "guest", Anna and Kristoff backing her up.

"First things first" Rapunzel said decisively, "What did you do to that guardsman?" Viola's cheeks turned pink and she looked to her feet in shame, wringing her cow-tail in her hands. She took a moment before answering, during which something seemed to happen to her. It was like a light had been cut off, her skin seeming to turn from golden-brown to a faint grey, her hair from a full, chocolatey brown to a more drab color. She was still pretty, but lacked the _stunning_ quality from before.

"Like all Ashlanders, huldra have a natural link to magic," she explained. "All of them show it differently. For huldra, among other ways, we have the power of glamour. It's like a second skin of magic that makes makes us seem more alluring; a defense mechanism against those who would want to hurt us. "It also leaves humans, men specifically, more open to suggestion." She looked up to Rapunzel, the feeling of Kristoff's bitter glare seeming to burn into her skin, hoping that the princess would understand what was going on.

"Okay, time out," Anna said, her hands held up in a "T", "what about one of the guardsmen?" Rapunzel briefly explained about the guardsman she had healed. "I'm assuming your 'glamour' had something to do with that?" she asked neutrally. After all, he had been escorting her through the crowd. Viola nodded sadly and settled her back against a tree, her tail hidden in her dress.

"With the Trickster's return, peoples of the Ashlands have been pressured to choose sides. Many have gone over to him, those who desire power or wealth. Even those who only want a change have gone to fight for him." Viola gave a shuddering sigh, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears before cleared her throat and continued. "Others are choosing to fight against him, such as the huldra and the wisps." A wisp appeared in their path, as if confirming, before flickering away.

"When the trees began whispering of a great horror reborn," she continued, "we knew it had to be Loki, just as the fragments of the Great Tree had told us." Huldra, as denizens of the woods and forests, could commune with the trees. The wisest of them could commune with the Scions of Yggdrasil, which had warned them of this day. "And when I realized that, I did what I could to learn about his forces; I knew only one person could save us. It had to be … Alphonse." She smiled as she said his name.

"Okay, hold up!" Anna said forcefully, locking her gaze with the huldra's. "Were you and Al a 'thing' or something, because I know Elsa and she's gonna jump right to the worst possible wrong conclusion." Anna moved forward until her nose was an inch from Viola's. "So tell me right now," she growled, "are you here to make trouble for my sister?"

Viola was silent for several moments. She closed her eyes and tilted her head as if listening. Her lower lips began to tremble, a single tear escaping her eye. "He's happy …" she whispered with a watery smile and she opened her eyes to look dead into Anna's gaze. "Alphonse was always hurting before, like his heart had been ripped from his chest even as he still lived. But that woman, your sister … she has saved him." The force of her glamour returned in her joy. "Alphonse was my best friend, and I wouldn't ruin this if my life depended on it!" she laughed.

"Well that's nice of you," Kristoff interrupted dryly. Clearly he still didn't trust this woman. A faint idea flickered across his mind before he brushed it away to consider later. "But, um, you said 'learn what you could about his forces'?" Viola nodded. "What exactly did you see?"

* * *

As Rapunzel, Anna, and Kristoff went to "interrogate" Viola, Eugene took the liberty of escorting Alphonse, forcefully by the shoulder, to the library. It took all of the mage's concentration to resist the instinctive urge to flip the prince over his shoulder, years of habit being difficult to break.

They finally arrived, and Eugene sat Alphonse down on the sofa and looked down at him like a child. And despite his long career of facing death and injury against all manner of horrors, Alphonse couldn't bring himself to look into those piercing brown eyes that seemed to know so much that he didn't. Was this what it was like looking at himself?

"I hope you realize exactly how deep in trouble you are right now," Eugene said. Alphonse winced at his serious tone, so different from the usual dry snark he had come to know of Eugene in the last few days. And it didn't help that, yes, he knew he was in way over his head. This wasn't fighting or teaching, this was … _romance_. The one thing he hadn't learned anything about growing up.

Eugene sighed and sat in a chair before Alphonse. "Ah, don't worry about it," he said lightly with a wave of his hand. "Sure, you may not know the first thing about women, but before I met Rapunzel, I knew … well, a heck of a lot. And I still remember most of it." He put a hand to his chin as he studied Alphonse. "Is there anything that struck you as odd since the whole 'fiery teleporting' thing?"

Alphonse tried to explain what little he had noticed, namely the sudden fall of Elsa's mood. "It's like- like-" Alphonse sighed and slammed his head into his hands, unable to come up with the words necessary. Some god of poetry he was reborn from.

"Like a candle snuffed?" Eugene supplied. Alphonse's head shot up at the perfect analogy, drawing a grin from Eugene. He had come to respect the mage in the short time they had known each other (both because and in spite of the fact that he went on these long exposition speeches). It was refreshing to see the man, younger than him, learning the ropes. And Eugene was more than happy to help.

"Look," Eugene said seriously, "do you want a short answer or a long one?" he asked. Frankly, he thought it was a coin toss as to which he would answer. Alphonse seemed like a scholar, a man who wanted to know everything in intimate detail; on the other hand, he also seemed practical enough to want the short version. So which would it be?

"Summarize it in one word," Alphonse asked, forcefully.

"Jealousy," Eugene said. Alphonse's eyes widened and he actually leaned back as if struck. Eugene watched intently as the mage's eyes narrowed, his eyes darting from side to side as he processed this information. The prince-consort could almost see the gears turning in his head, like an intricate clock. Finally, he looked back to Eugene.

"No, seriously," he said.

"Seriously," Eugene parroted, his face the picture of stoicism. Alphonse winced and rubbed his temple, as if warding off a headache. "Look, Al," Eugene said, grabbing his attention with the nickname, "Elsa is great and all, but no matter what, she's still human. And a woman, at that. And like all women unused to relationships, she's going to be threatened at some point."

"Threatened by what, exactly?" Alphonse asked with exasperation. "I haven't _done_ anything!" Eugene sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You haven't - but this Viola chick did!" Alphonse's face scrunched into a look of utter confusion. Eugene _tsked_ and tried to explain. "Look, Alphonse, if I hadn't known any better, I would have thought you two were 'together' with the way you arrived in the garden; her all snuggled up against your chest, you clearly protective."

"She's my friend," Alphonse defended, and he'd had very few of those growing up, "it's not like I'd push her away."

"Fair enough, but Elsa doesn't know that," Eugene pointed out. "For all she knows, this random, magic chick walks up all teary-eyed and you just swoop in and comfort her while ignoring Elsa. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense," he added, "but since when do emotions make much sense, if any?" Alphonse seriously considered that question and nodded to concede the point.

"So what do I do?" Alphonse asked, his voice cracking. Damn it all, he would beg on his knees to know how to fix this! Lucky for him, Eugene had learned to be compassionate over the years.

"First thing you need to know is the two kinds of female jealousy. The first kind is the hot, clingy, screamy type." He winced at the memories of those types, clinging to arms and screaming questions and accusations like 'who is she?' and 'you pig!' He shook it off and continued. "The other kind, Elsa's kind, is 'surprise, surprise', the cold kind. They clam up and give you the cold shoulder." He winced, both at the appropriateness and the pun. "They shut you out," also appropriate, given her childhood, "and refuse to talk to you. And frankly, those are harder to deal with."

"But _what_ do I _do_?" Alphonse repeated, clearly getting frustrated. Wow, he really _did_ want to fix this.

"Well, before I met Rapunzel I just cut my losses and ditched the chick," Eugene commented, grinning internally at Alphonse's rapidly reddening face, eyes growing angry. Good that he's showing some emotion instead of that passive facade, but maybe not good that it's directed at _him_. "But, since I met her and found a girl that I absolutely couldn't do that to, I learned the real way. Communication." Eugene stood and placed his hands on Alphonse's shoulders. "Find Elsa and, no matter what she does, explain to her that this Viola girl is just a friend. Heck," he backtracked, "don't mention her at all. Just find Elsa and tell her how you really feel about her."

Alphonse considered this for a split second before darting, not for the door, but jumping _clean through the window_! Eugene sat stunned for a second before a servant crashed into the library, staring with horror at the window before turning to Eugene.

" _He_ did it," Eugene said.

* * *

As Elsa finished her rounds throughout the town, assuring the people that she was fine and they weren't under attack (again), Elsa was stopped by a young boy and girl. Elsa, recognising the first little girl to approach Alphonse, knelt to address them, putting on a warm smile.

"Is Mr. Alphonse with you?" the boy asked. Elsa fought the urge to frown and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, he had … other things to worry about," she explained. Elsa flinched as she thought of this "Viola" woman, who was clearly close to the mage. What, exactly, were they to each other? She thought Alphonse cared for her, but was she the only one? Elsa was self-aware enough to know she had next to no answers and practical enough to know that two days before a cataclysmic battle was not a good time for doubts. All the same, she couldn't shake it off.

"Hey, he's done with the other things!" the girl said, looking past Elsa. The queen turned to find Alphonse Shifting back to normal, breathing heavily.

"Elsa, we need to talk," he said bluntly. Elsa narrowed her eyes, her frustration returning, and turned to walk away. She flinched at the feel of his hand on her arm, holding her in place.

"Alphonse," she said dangerously, "let go of me."

"No," he replied evenly, "not until we talk." Elsa looked back at him and saw only determination in his eyes; determination that was rapidly cracking into fear. Fear that she would brush him off. That trace of vulnerability brought a sigh to her lips and she relented as they said goodbye to the children and he led her to a small cafe. Both were silent as they avoided eye contact, uncertainty leaving them awkward.

"Elsa-" "Alphonse-" Both cut off and offered for the other to speak first, their words overlapping again. And again. Ana again, until both began to giggle, clearing the tension from the air.

"Elsa," Alphonse started, "you should know by now that I don't care for subtlety. So I'm just going to say it." He took her hands in his and stared into her eyes. "I care for you, Elsa, in a way I have never felt for anyone else. And I mean _not anyone_." Eugene had said not to mention Viola, so he did his best. Elsa bit her lip before replying.

"What about your 'friend'?" she asked.

"That's all she is," he answered earnestly, "and it's all she will ever will be. Elsa, you have to know that I would never hurt you, not if I could help it." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "And now that I have, I hate myself for it." Elsa tightened her grip on his hands.

"Don't you ever say that!" she demanded. "You don't deserve that; I was the one who overreacted. If anyone should take the blame for this, it's me!"

"Elsa, I should have talked to you!"

"I should have let you!"

"It's my fault!"

"No, it's mine!"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

A heavy hand slapping the table broken them out of their argument, both looking up to find Eugene, wearing a wide grin. "As much as I'd love to watch you two bicker about the other being right all evening," he held up a wisp, "this little guy just popped up and told us to head to the western gate in Anna's voice." The wisp vanished, its message delivered.

Elsa and Alphonse glanced to each other, their cheeks reddening in unison as they realized how tightly they were holding each other's hands. Alphonse cleared his throat and stood, bringing Elsa up with him. "Shall we, your majesty," he grinned. She smiled in turn.

"Of course, good sir." With that, Elsa summoned an ice-hawk and allowed Alphonse and Eugene to board before taking off toward the western gate, the sun falling toward the horizon.

* * *

As the sun sank toward the horizon, the formation of the clan crested a final rise that separated them from the Kingdom of the Crocus. The Elder held up a fist, signaling a momentary halt. The Elder took a breath and, as easy as closing his hand, opened himself to the flow of magic around them.

The Elder's eyes shone with faint violet light as the environment brightened, his sight moving forward to pierce the distance. His mind's eye settled on an unusual group to say the least.

A large man with a warhammer, northern lights shimmering over his skin. A young woman who glowed with magical power, a bronze sword at her hip. Another young woman who shone with sunlight, a large shield on her back. And finally a huldra, young and unblemished.

The Elder grunted and motioned for them to keep moving. It was time to meet with these strange peoples.

 **In regards to Elsa's behavior: Alphonse isn't the only one who's inexperienced. Since Elsa never went through these stages as a teen, she's feeling them now.**

 **Sorry if the jealously seems unrealistic; I don't have much personal experience with that.**

 **Leave a review, guys! It makes my day when they come in!**


	27. Mages Join the Sides

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Mages Join the Sides**

As the sun set over the mountains of Arendelle, the Legions of Loki (as some of them had been calling themselves) waited with varying degrees of patience for their master's return. As word had spread of the impending Cataclysm, many creatures had chosen to fight with the Legion to earn a piece of the world that would follow. Their numbers had swelled in the past two days, forming an army that would shake the ground.

Finally, as the sun touched the mountains, a tiny speck could be seen in the sky, one that grew to reveal Hans's falcon shape. The raptor descended and landed before Shifting back to himself, cruel sneer and all. Clutched in the prince's fist was a length of black-and-gold cloth, the lingering enchantment on it keeping it pristine even after five years.

On cue, the leader of Loki's coven approached and took the cloth that she now recognized as a hooded cape. She examined it closely, her eyes faintly glowing as she Saw the faint glimmer of a Preservation on the cloth. She had to admit, whoever had wrought this enchantment knew what they were doing.

"Are you done admiring that?" Hans asked dryly, "or can we move along?" The vala eyed Hans sharply before shrugging and placing the folded cloak on the ground. She backed up to return to her sisters and lifted her arms, hands facing outward. As one, three of the vala began softly chanting.

As the sun finally sank below the horizon, mist rose and pooled around the cloak. Dust rose from the ground, lifting the garment and forming into a humanoid shape. The dust writhed and reformed, eventually settling on a feminine figure. Mist swirled around the shape and settled into an illusion of grey flesh, hair and cloth. And a pair of steel-grey eyes lidded with arrogance.

Before the Legion stood the spirit of a legend among the dark-vala, a witch that had lived for centuries. Before them stood the ghost of Mother Gothel. The ghost, held together by dark magic and dust, anchored by the cloak that held traces of her magic, turned to face the coven of dark-vala.

"Who dares summon me?!" she demanded.

"Me," Loki said cheerily, grinning widely. Gothel turned to face him, eyes widening as she Saw him with dead eyes. She saw two minds inside him, knotted together like thorny bushes. Had she been alive, she would have paled with fear.

"Loki," she greeted, "what can I do for you?" Loki smiled a approached, tuning out the continued chants of his coven.

"I think the question that is just as important is 'what can _I_ do for _you_ '? In this new land, I can bring you back from-" he gestured to her fragile state "-this." Gothel's eyes widened even further. Surely he couldn't mean-? "Well," he thought over his words, "mostly."

"Explain," Gothel demanded, the ambition in her eyes trumping deference to the mad Residuum. Loki hid a smirk; people like this, blinded by ambition, greed, or hate, were _so_ easy to manipulate. He thought of Hati and the rest of his Legion before moving on.

"My dear daughter was killed during the End. And even now her Residuum has not manifested." Loki seemed solemn for a moment before grinning deviously. "That means the rules of such things are … fluid. I and my coven can bind your soul to a body and return you to some sort of life."

"A life as a rotting corpse," she commented dryly. "I think I'd rather return to the dark place you pulled me from. At least there it was peaceful." Loki's eyebrow shot up at the description. It seemed Hel's domain, her realm for the dead, was still standing. How interesting.

"You don't know the old stories, do you?" Loki asked. "Haven't you ever heard of the einherjar?" Loki vividly remembered the day Odin had first watched a human battle, listened well as he sent his valkyries out to collect the souls of dead warriors to serve in his army of Valhalla. And most importantly, he had figured out how Odin had given them new bodies.

Gothel narrowed her eyes in mistrust. "And what, exactly, would I have to do for you in return. I highly doubt you would do this for free." Loki's malicious grin only widened.

"Fight for me on the field of Ragnarok," he urged. Gothel's eyes widened in surprise. "You have magic; my coven can make it better. Fight with me and you will earn your freedom." Bringing her back like this would carve a debt on her soul; if she fought, she'd be free. "And as an added incentive …" Loki snapped his fingers, forming an illusion of Eugene. Gothel's eyes widened in outrage at the sight of him, real or no. "... I will let you have the thief." Loki would relish the sight of Gothel destroying the son of his enemy.

Gothel's eye had barely twitched before she made up her mind with a sinister smile. "With pleasure, Loki."

* * *

Anna stood straighter as she sensed the approach of fellow magic users. She felt no fear - she still couldn't say why, she just didn't. Anna held tightly to Kristoff's hand as anticipation grew. A quick glance at Rapunzel showed she was just as excited; Viola seemed tense.

Finally, in perfect sync, the scarred men strode into view to approach the gates of Arendelle Castle. They were just as she had Dreamed: all with scarred faces and violet-tinted eyes. All dressed in leather and carrying knives and swords. And all with the most intense expressions she had ever seen.

As they drew close, a piercing cry cut the air, heralding Elsa's arrival. Her ice-hawk settled and let its passengers off before bowing its head to Elsa and dissolving into snowflakes. Anna carefully watched the scarred men's reactions and was surprised to find them completely _unsurprised_.

Elsa, her cool queenly facade in place, took centerplace among the group. Given that Anna seemed to have been waiting for them, she assumed they were not hostile. "I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle. What business have you in my kingdom?"

The apparent leader, a with more silver in his hair than brown, strode forward and placed the knuckles of one hand into the palm of the other, then bowed his head. "I am Gjeter, Elder of the Avvisade," he intoned. _The Rejected?_ she wondered.

"Rejected of what?" Anna asked in her characteristic bluntness.

"Of the Maras," Alphonse growled, drawing surprised looks from the group. At the sound of the she-wolves title, the men before them growled like dogs. Gjeter made a sound suspiciously like a bark, silencing them like a knife. Gjeter returned his attention to Elsa, sensing that she was the unofficial leader of the group.

"Perhaps we should talk inside," she suggested.

* * *

On the tip of Han's island, the prince himself stood up to his knees in the sea, under the light of the waning moon. After recruiting Gothel and leaving her with the coven for her "procedure", Hans had come here to collect some of the final pieces of his Legion. That had been hours ago, but the payoff was more than worth the wait.

Hans smiled, almost warmly, as the water shifted to allow for a massive serpent. Summoned by his mental call, the final Kjempeslange had arrived.

After realizing that his in-essence grandchildren had been hatched, Hans had visited a norn, a small time seeress, to discover where they were. She had told him what she knew.

Though four had been hatched, Modi and Magni had avenged their father Thor on one of them, using Mjolnir to smite the creature in a battle that had shaken the continent and shattered the shoreline. The norn had gone on to say that that very sight had been settled by a family who had never lost their thrill for the sea; the heir to that kingdom had even married a mermaid.

The second had been killed some fourteen-hundred years ago by a powerful sorcerer. What was his name, Myrddin? No, some kind of bird … oh yes, _Merlin_. An image of a thin wizard with a long beard dressed in blue robes and a ridiculous pointed hat flashed through his mind. The norn had also shown him an image of a pair of ravens sitting on Merlin's shoulders. Seemed Hugin and Munin had been training sorcerers even before Odin's Residuum.

The third he had sent to Arendelle; he knew its fate. Though it hadn't died in the fjord, the wounds from Elsa and Alphonse had taken their toll. The creature had been in agony, blinded and broken. It had cracked Hans's shriveled heart just a little bit to put the creature out of its misery.

And now the last was here, resting in the seas. Hans smiled and placed his hand on the creature's nose, relishing in the bloodlust he could feel bubbling beneath its skin. One more day - one more! - and it would be free to unleash that wrath upon the Snow Queen and her allies.

Hans actually laughed at the thought.

* * *

When everyone (including the fifty-four rough warriors) were settled in one of the castle's largest audience chambers, Elsa still couldn't bring herself to relax on her throne. A small army appears on her doorstep a mere day before one of the most climactic battles in recent history? It seemed suspicious, like something Hans might do to make her lower her guard.

A hand on her shoulder drew her attention to Alphonse standing at her left side. His steady gaze helped assure her. Not to mention Anna had vouched for them, and apparently Freya had as well through her. Casting her gaze to the rest of her allies, Rapunzel and Eugene seemed content to let the matter unfold. Kristoff seemed calm, but his grip on Beskytter showed he was wary, as well. And Viola seemed outright nervous, running her hands through her hair and straightening her dress, tapping her bare feet and hugging her stomach. As much as she hated to admit it, Elsa drew some satisfaction from the huldra's nervousness.

After some time disarming themselves and passing the weapons onto a small group of guardsmen for safekeeping, the "Avvisade" all sat on their knees in perfect unison, except for their Leader, Gjeter. The grizzled man with facial scars that ran perfectly parallel from his hairline to his chin, as well as three smaller ones from his lower lip to his chin, stayed standing to speak for his men.

"I suppose we should start with the most obvious question," Elsa began. "Why are you here?"

"We are here to serve against the Trickster," he said simply in his rough voice. Elsa got the impression that these men, whoever they were, didn't speak very often. A soft touch at her shoulder drew her attention back to Alphonse.

"He's telling the truth," the mage whispered, holding up a necklace of polished stones wrapped around his hand, just as he had before the Serpent had attacked. The beads were not glowing, so he was telling the truth.

"Why do you call yourselves the 'Avvisade'?" Rapunzel asked. This caused a stir among the scarred men, though one that only lasted a moment. Gjeter swallowed thickly as his face visibly hardened.

"It is not something we like to speak of, Highness," he answered, "but given these trying times I see no way around it." Gjeter turned and gestured to another of his men, who stood and strode forward.

This man was wiry and pale compared to his fellow Avvisade, his hair hanging loose instead of tied in a tight tail. His face was scarred horizontally, in stark contrast to the others' vertical or diagonal slashes. The man made their sign and bowed his head before addressing them.

"Raynor, Scribe of the Hamlet," he intoned before beginning. "We are call each other 'the clan', for that is what we have chosen to be. But within the Ashlands, we are called by our other name, the Rejected. For that, highnesses, is what we are born as. We are rejected by those who brought us into this world. By the …" the scribe's expression twisted into hatred for a moment, "the Maras."

"What do they reject you from?" Anna asked. "Why would they do that," she gestured at his scars, all of their scars, "to you?"

"They do this," he gestured at his face, "because we are not what they want. They want girls, and we …" he paused and swallowed thickly, "we are _born_ as what they despise."

Everyone, save Alphonse, gasped at the implications of those words; even simply growled deep in his throat in suppressed anger. As soon as they arrived, he had suspicions; when they announced their title, he knew for sure. These were the fabled Sons of the Maras.

"When a girl is born to a Maras, she is born into what they are. They feel no pain from the birth, and their packs continue to grow. But when a boy is born," he gestured to the men behind him, "we are cursed. The mothers mark us and leave us to die. And even if we are found, we are set apart." Raynor lifted his hands palms-up, his gaze intense. Anna shivered as she felt the currents of magic stir. The swords and daggers that the guardsmen had confiscated rose from their positions and gently whirled, looping with a rhythmic metallic swinging sound. As Raynor relaxed and they fell back into place.

"All of us are born with magic, echoes of the power that resides within our mothers." Elsa couldn't help but begin considering exactly what fifty-four magic users could do during the upcoming battle.

"What do you expect to earn from this act of service?" Elsa asked. One of her father's lessons, one of his least favorites, had been that few people would fight for nothing. Most desired something in return, be it money, land, or lodging. What could these wild mystics want?

"Peace," Gjeter intoned, standing again to replace the Scribe. "Those of our kind have learned to keep our heads down, lest our secrets be discovered and mobs of mundane men gather to destroy us. But the threat of Loki is far too great for us to ignore. Just as our vile predecessors fight for him, we will fight tooth and nail against him." Without audible signal, all of the Avvisade stood and, in unison, bowed to one knee.

"We offer our powers against the Armies of Ragnarok. We fight for survival of our own and all others." In agreement, all of the mystics seemed to growl, the low sound echoing through the chamber like distant thunder.

Elsa narrowed her eyes in thought, but she didn't get very far. The Snow Queen gasped as she felt her Awareness gently lifted from her body.

 _Still in the throneroom, Elsa examined her transparent hands before noticing Anna still holding onto her. Anna's astral spirit grinned sheepishly and Elsa noticed a thread of green-gold light that wrapped around her waist, linking her spirit to her body. A quick look about the room showed that Anna had given the same treatment to Kristoff, Alphonse, Rapunzel, and Eugene._

 _Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa also noticed another detail. Anna's body had her arm outstretched, her fingers splayed as she dropped a piece of fruit. But what was strange was how slowly it was falling, like a snail crawling across the ground. Was her little sister slowing down time?!_

" _No," Anna reassured, "I'm not slowing down time. We're just acting at a faster pace than everything else. Gives us time to discuss." That settled, Elsa turned her attention to the circle of spirits around her._

" _Do you trust them?" Elsa asked, addressing everyone. All of these people she would trust with her life. If a majority favored it, she would be all too happy to accept these mysterious mages._

" _They've told the truth from the moment they arrived," Alphonse surmised. "These men are a legend among the Ashlands, whispers told of their great power that they hide from the world. And given their clear hatred for the Maras, they would make valuable allies even without their magic." Elsa nodded in acknowledgement._

" _He's right about the legendary thing," Kristoff spoke up. "Cliff and Bulda used to tell me stories about them when I was little. Stories about men like me, who hid in the forest and protected their own, just like the trolls. Sons of wolves who could use magic." He paused in thought, thinking out his opinions, before nodding to himself. "I think we can trust them to at least fight alongside us." Elsa heard the message between the words: Not necessarily_ for _them, but not against them. Elsa nodded._

" _I say we get 'em lined up and point 'em at Han's thugs," Anna voted. "I mean, anyone who can take out some Loki's guys is fine by me. What's the old saying? 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'? Well, they've definitely got a beef with those stupid she-wolves, so sign them up!" Elsa grinned at her sister's analysis. A third nod._

" _Rapunzel? Eugene?" she asked. Rapunzel was quite for a moment before she nodded._

" _I get the feeling that they are here for more than revenge," she admitted. "They seem to want to actually_ help _us, or at least help the world. And Anna's right. At this point, against odds that decide the fate of everything we love, we need all the help we can get." Another nod._

" _Hey, I'm just an ex-thief," Eugene said with raised hands," but I know a thing or two about tactics. And these guys," he gestured at the still forms of the Avvisade, "they could be an ace in the hole. And Blondie's right. Any extra guy on our side could tip the balance from total devastation to …" he paused as if searching for the right words, "even just less-than-total devastation would be okay." Another nod._

 _Elsa sighed to herself. Even if she had voted against it, and she was doubtful that she would have even before all of these reasons, she was outgunned. The Avvisade were a valuable resource that Fate had literally dropped in their laps. The royals-turned Residuum would be fools not to use them._

 _Elsa nodded to Anna, who grinned and forced her arms out to her sides. Everyone was whipped back into their bodies-_

Elsa grunted as she returned to her physical self, just barely keeping her outward composure. Gjeter raised an eyebrow in confusion before brushing it off. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he didn't; either way, he seemed not to care.

"Welcome to Arendelle," Elsa formally greeted, "and we gladly accept your offer to fight with us." The Avvisade nodded in unison and knelt before leaning back onto their backs. As one, the whole fifty-two of them began lightly snoring. Elsa raised an eyebrow in surprise, but then thought that if she had run for who-knows-how-many miles to reach Arendelle, she would be dead from exhaustion a dozen times over. They deserved their rest.

"Unless anyone else has further business," Alphonse said, "I think I'll turn in. I need to find exactly where we're fighting by sundown tomorrow." With that Alphonse brushed his lips against Elsa's cheek and left. Elsa smiled as she brushed her fingers against the spot that felt like it was burning. She glanced at Anna and Rapunzel when the princesses snorted and giggled respectively, and even Kristoff and eugene were struggling to hide their grins.

"What?" Elsa asked tartly.

"You're in looove," the princesses sing-songed, bringing a blush to the Snow Queen's cheeks. She huffed and strode away with as much dignity as she could muster (which, frankly, was a lot). She couldn't deny that it was true, but they didn't have to joke about it! Then again, she recalled doing just the same to Anna in the months before their engagement.

Ugh, karma was too cruel!

* * *

As the royals set up the deal with the Avvisade, Viola elected to stay in the garden. It wasn't exactly that she was afraid of the Avvisade, it was that they made her uneasy. They were a faction of warrior-mages that technically belonged in the Ashland community, but had never made efforts to connect. They kept to themselves and guarded their secrets. And it was that mystery that made her uneasy. But, given the world-defining battle that would happen in less than two days, she was willing to look past that.

Viola's thoughts were interrupted by the quiet sigh of an arriving wisp. She smiled and scooped up the ethereal creature, lifting it to her ear so she could listen. What it said made her smile widen and she thanked the wisp before it vanished. As of now, the Avvisade were not the only creatures who had decided to fight with the royals.

During the battle, the fury of the forest would be on their side.

* * *

As the moon rose over the fjord, a lone figure rose from the river that ran through and watered the town. The figure, a male, looked about him at the buildings and huts and shook his head with kind incredulity. How could humans live like this? Cut off from the natural world as if it were just waiting to destroy them? He shrugged and made for the castle. Hanging from his clenched hand was a violin case grown from the trunk and branches of his favorite oak tree.

Like all Ashlanders, Fell knew what was coming. And he knew that, should the Liar succeed, he would burn the world. And that was something that he was all-too-willing to help prevent, in any way he could. Fell hefted his case as he neared the castle.

It was time to visit an old friend.

 **Things are coming to a head. Only one day left until the Final Battle. That means (sob, sob) that this story will soon draw to a close. Not to worry, though; I have a slight idea for a shorter sequel if anyone is interested. Leave reviews to vote yay or nay.**

 **Hope you guys liked it. More to come soon enough. (My updates will speed up again after the semester!)**


	28. The Last Day of Peace

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Last Day of Peace**

The first light of dawn the next morning was blocked out by rain clouds, thunder echoing across the fjord with no accompanying lightning. Alphonse didn't need to ask the still-sleeping Kristoff if it was his work; he knew it was natural. But rain or shine, they had one day left of Kvasir's Peace and he intended to use it for one last task. He had to find the location of the new Vigridr, the field where the forces of this Second Ragnarok would meet.

As he finished brushing down Askvader, the supernatural horse gently munching on honied oats in exchange for braving this weather, Alphonse sensed a familiar presence behind him. One that brought a smile to his face.

"Elsa," the mage greeted. Elsa smiled and approached to wrap her arms around his chest in a hug, his own hands gently encircling her waist in turn. They stood there for a few moments simply soaking in each others' presences. But Elsa had come with a more specific purpose and she gently pulled away.

"Do you know where you'll start?" she asked. Alphonse thought it over and shrugged.

"I have a few ideas, but none really stick out. Why?" Elsa smiled and handed him a map of the northern countries, from Corona to Arendelle and beyond. Adorning the map was a series of markings that resembled crossed swords, totalling five. He couldn't help but notice that each of them corresponded to the site of a Scion.

"Anna drew that up last night. She's apparently been making progress in Dreaming specifics of the future. She thought it might get you home sooner." The pink rising in the queen's cheeks showed that wasn't solely Anna's intent. Alphonse smiled and gently rolled up the parchment before placing it in his cloak. When he looked up, he was surprised to see something else in Elsa's hands. A box?

"What's this?" he asked. Elsa grinned with a touch of mischief.

"Something you've been missing since the moment we met," she explained. Alphonse lifted an eyebrow in question and decided to open the box. As he removed the contents, his eyes widened in surprise. In his hands was a charcoal-grey wide-brimmed hat. Alphonse glanced down at his cloak and smiled at the joke. Odin's ensemble when roaming the Earth had been a cloak and hat. Alphonse looked up meet Elsa's eyes and, with as much suave as he could manage, put the hat on. Elsa placed her fingers to her chin, eyes narrowed in mock scrutiny, before adjusting the position and smiling.

"Very dapper," she complimented before giggling. Alphonse laughed with her before gently taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss.

"I'll be back soon," he promised. Elsa nodded and kissed his cheek before he mounted Askvader and rode into the downpour. He lifted his spear and, in a flash of green light, was gone. Elsa took a breath and turned to join her advisory council and Arendelle's aldermen for an emergency meeting.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

As Alphonse had set off to survey battlefields and Elsa was bogged down with arranging the affairs of Arendelle should anything happen to her or Anna, said princess was sitting in one of the covered patios of the castle gardens, listening to the rain. And more importantly, to the impassioned strumming of Kristoff's lute.

Anna had always liked the fact that Kristoff could play an instrument. It had actually been the first thing that had shown her he was far more than the gruff thug she had originally thought in Oaken's shop. He had never told her exactly who had taught him to play, but had hinted at a mystical origin. After a while Anna had stopped asking, content to simply enjoy the skill of her husband.

As Kristoff began a new song, Anna's peaceful smile turned into a pensive frown as she thought she heard … accompaniment? The music grew louder, revealing someone walking through the rain with a violin, harmonizing with her husband's lute. Kristoff's strumming halted in its tracks as he saw the figure, eyes wide in recognition.

Eventually the still-playing figure entered the cover of the patio, allowing the princess to get a good look at him. The man was quite tall and thin, his frame angular like an old tree. His muscles, however, were quite defined, showing it was his natural build rather than sickness or starvation. He had blonde hair, sandy like a river's edge, that extended to his waist and was tied at the nape of his neck. His skin was lightly tanned and his lips thin. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen.

"Kristoff," the man greeted with a nod and a smile. Kristoff laughed and shook the man's hand (the man wincing in pain) in a display of friendliness that Anna had never seen from her husband. The man looked to Anna with another smile. "And this lovely creature must be the famous Anna," he observed, holding out his hand. Anna hesitated for only a brief moment before shaking.

As soon as she took his hand, Anna felt her magic flare inside her. She felt the lap of river waves around her ankles, heard the gurgle of a creek, saw the swirling eddies of water as they fell down a waterfall. The sensations only lasted a moment before her magic retreated into dormancy, but it was enough.

"You're a Nokken," she said. The man's smile faded into a tight frown, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly before he let go with a faint sigh.

"I remain uncorrupted, _Your Majesty_." Her title was spoken with a hint of bitterness. Kristoff's hand on his shoulder and a warning look brought the man's subdued temper down, but he still remained sullen.

"Anna," Kristoff said, "this is Fell." Fell nodded. "He's a Fossegrim, a spirit of rivers and waterfalls and music. Nokken are the corrupted forms of Fossegrim, and to be accused of being corrupted is a grave insult in the Ashland community."

Anna's hands flew to her mouth in embarrassment before she started babbling apologies. She was at it for a good three minutes, her usual Anna-type chatter kicking in before Fell burst out laughing, his smile back in place.

"Your stories didn't do the princess justice, Kristoff. I can see why you fell for her." Anna stopped mid-sentence at Fell's confession, her eyes darting to Kristoff. The ice harvester had the decency to look bashful. Only after her chattering ended did a piece of legend click in her mind.

"You're Kristoff's music teacher." It was a statement, not a question. Legend went that a Fossegrim could be persuaded to teach its supernatural musical skills in exchange for an offering of food. Usually well-cooked lamb or beef that was tossed into the waterfall in which they lived. It was said that if the offering was mediocre, they would only teach you how to tune your instrument. But if the offering was satisfactory, they would teach you … in their own way.

"Kristoff? Can I see your fingers?" Anna asked. Kristoff smiled and let her examine his hands. In the right light, Anna could just make out thin, almost invisibly pale scars than ran over his fingerprints. The mark of a Fossegrim's student. Legend says that the right offering would have the Fossegrim run his students fingers over the strings of his instrument until they bled, using magic to fuse the essence of music into their very hands.

"Did it hurt?" Anna asked. And who said she didn't have her priorities in order? Kristoff smiled faintly.

"Oh yeah, it hurt. The wires burned cold and the fusing felt like my fingers were burning off. But," he picked up his lute, "it allowed me to do this." Kristoff dove into a hearty jig, one of Anna's favorites that he had learned from an Irish musician who had been hired for their wedding. Fell dove into the jig as well, his violin harmonizing with Kristoff's lute. Anna giggled and couldn't help but dance along to the music.

When they finished the song, both men laughed and bumped shoulders. Then Kristoff fixed Fell with a wary look. "So, Fell. Why have you come all this way? Last you said, you hated civilization." Fell remained silent as he packed up his violin in the case he had carried with him. He sat on one of the patio's couches and laced his fingers before answering.

"None have missed the coming of the Trickster," he admitted. "Even if word had not spread, the trees whisper of his madness. The mountains tremble in fear of what is to come, for they remember the Crescendo better than anyone." All creatures had their names for Ragnarok. Fossegrim and Nokken called it the Crescendo, the climax of the symphony of the gods.

"Some have taken sides, one way or another. The Corrupted have sided with Loki and his ilk. Many have chosen to simply stay out of the way and weather the coming storm. Just as I intended to." He looked up to them. "Until I heard that my very own pupil was the rebirth of the Thunderer." He grinned. "Things like this tend to spread."

Fell stood up, his smile gone and replaced with steely determination. "I cannot pledge much; my kind are not meant for warfare. But I would do anything that I can to aide you in the coming battle."

Kristoff and Anna shared a glance before they both smiled at him. Kristoff clasped his forearm with a nod. "Then get some rest, Fell. Because you're going to need it for tomorrow." Fell paled even as he shook back. _Tomorrow_?

* * *

To pass the time of the final day, Rapunzel sat in the guest room that she and Eugene used when visiting and painted. That had always been her favorite of her many, many hobbies, and it served keep her nerves distracted from the coming conflict. Brave she may be, but even the princess of Corona was a little scared (no, actually utterly terrified) of what was coming. Hence, the painting.

With a final brush stroke, Rapunzel stepped back to admire her latest work. It was a large canvas, her favorite size, that depicted Sunna about to be devoured by Hati. The woman, so small before the gaping maw of the giant wolf, stood her ground with a determined gaze. It was how she remembered it, and it was what would be remembered.

Rapunzel sighed and placed the painting on a separate eisel to dry. That done, she cast her gaze over the other works she had painted. Aside from a few scenes from Sunna's memories, most were of what she remembered of the gods that her family had originally been.

The first was Skadi, with her hair and skin that blended with the snowcapped mountain peak behind her, her dark eyes and lips perfectly contrasted. The Snow Queen was dressed in furs and a long cape that fluttered in the wind. A wolf and a lynx prowled around her ankles, searching for the scent of prey. But it was the look in her eyes, the cold, uncaring, distance that cemented you ideas on her. She didn't care if you lived or died in her brought your fate upon yourself.

The second was of Freya, princess of the Vanir. Rapunzel faintly remembered the embarrassment she had felt as her artistic instincts took over and she had painted that. The goddess's dress sat just above her elbows and just barely kept her decent. Sunbeams shone through the trees and caught in her golden hair. But it was the look in her green eyes that had made Rapunzel's cheeks burn. She gazed at the viewer with barely-restrained passion, the coy smile on her lips only adding to the effect.

The third depicted Thor as he stood on a cliff, thunderheads bursting with lightning adding menace to the piece. His hammer was held high, the lightning illuminating his fiery red hair and the leather and fur that he wore. His face was stretched in a fearsome battle cry, as if he were ready to destroy an army of jotun. Thor had been the champion of Asgard, and this piece showed that in all its terrifying glory.

The fourth was of Odin as he sat upon his throne. The All-Father sat tall and strong, like she always saw her father on his throne, but he held his spear to one side as his other hand stroked his beard in thought. Two ravens perched on his shoulders, two wolves lay at his feet, eyes alert. The look in his eye, the other covered by an elaborate leather patch, was cunning and determined. And more frightening than Thor could ever hope to be.

And the last before her painting of Sunna had been the hardest to create. It depicted Eugene's father, Balder, collapsed against the trunk of a bare-branched willow tree. His eyes were closed and peaceful, even as blood leaked her the corners of his mouth. A green, woven arrow stuck from his chest, blood stained around it.

Rapunzel dashed a tear from her cheek as she looked at the scene. It had helped that Eugene had not actually been Balder, not like all of the others had been their previous counterparts, but it still made her sad. This was the death of Eugene's father, what amounted to her own father-in-law.

"You okay, Blondie?" Eugene asked, drawing Rapunzel from her sadness. The princess giggled as Eugene wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. Rapunzel caressed his cheek and leaned into the embrace. Eugene had been unsure about her starting this little series of projects, but had been more-than-happy to watch as she spread her pent-up emotions across the canvases.

Rapunzel stepped free of her husband's embrace and breathed deeply, searching for one last burst of creativity. "One more?" Eugene asked with a grin. Rapunzel had always like to paint in series' of seven.

"One more," she agreed. And this one would be the most frightening of them all.

* * *

Alphonse kept his head low, his new hat protecting him from the rain, as he studied the valley before him from a cliff. The valley was ringed by such cliffs that formed unsurpassable barriers, preventing escape or retreat. Only two thin passes, roughly opposite to each other, would allow access of great armies. Such as the Legions of Loki and Arendelle's forces.

Of the sites he had visited so far, this one seemed the most likely for an all-or-nothing battle. But more than that, he could feel the imminent bloodshed and violence that would shake this valley, would grind the grass to dirt and water it with blood. This was the fated battlefield.

Alphonse's musings were broken by a tingling across his skin; a warning. The mage whispered in the hissing, guttural language of the runes and his eyes flashed as one of his charms took hold. And not a moment later, he felt an intense pressure, like his ears were ready to pop. The pressure disappeared and a high-pitched scream echoed across the cliffs.

Alphonse turned and observed a woman speared in the roots of a fallen tree, her eyes dull and fingers twitching as rivulets of blood ran down her black dress. He opened himself up to magic, to the sight of it, and saw the tree slowly draining her power from her. After her magic was gone, it would move on to her life force. And once that was gone, she would be long dead.

Alphonse growled as he sensed a most-unwelcome presence and turned to find Hans leaning against a boulder, his arms crossed as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Now was that really necessary?" Hans asked.

"You tell me," Alphonse replied darkly. "She started it." It was true. This charm was mostly defensive, a protection that reflected curses back at their senders. The dark-vala's fate was one she had wished upon him, and now she was paying the price for her actions. A small part of Alphonse wished to help her. But even getting past what she was, he couldn't help her; that curse was a strong one.

Hans shrugged without care. He knew the effects of that curse as well. He hadn't ordered it or even suggested it; she had acted on her own initiative. And so she had been able to work around the Peace, but at the price of her own life. Such was the way of things, he knew.

"You feel it too, don't you Odin?" Loki asked. Alphonse's grip on his spear tightened ever-so-slightly. He forced down his ire; Loki was just trying to goad him. "You feel the Web of Fate that surrounds this place?" Though they couldn't see the Threads themselves, the most powerful of magic users could always feel the presence of fateful locations.

"I do," Alphonse answered, turning to face the valley again. Time to set the terms of the battle. "We meet tomorrow as the sun reaches it's zenith. I'll come from the west, and you from the east. When the sun is at it's highest, we will attack." During the Aesir-Vanir War, all the battles had been prearranged by the elders of the two tribes. Jotuns may have been born and bred in chaos, but even they couldn't resist the pull of Fate.

"Fair enough." The redhead's voice echoed as both minds agreed. Hans smirked. "You better run along home now, Alphonse. Enjoy the last day you will spend with your beloved Snow Queen." Hans dissolved into mist, leaving Alphonse alone with the pouring rain.

Alphonse cast one last glance at the valley below, memorizing the terrain to arrange Elsa's forces, before mounting Askvader and starting the journey back to Arendelle.

* * *

The fitful light that penetrated the clouds had faded almost to night as the arrangements with Elsa's council of advisors wound to a close. Elsa felt exhausted; the officials, readers-of-law and the aldermen had meticulously gone over every single foreseeable possibility for the upcoming battle.

What would happen if Elsa died? What would happen if Anna died? What would happen if both of them died?! What if Kristoff was killed or crippled? What about if Rapunzel or Eugene were killed in this conflict? All these questions and so many more had been pored over by experts in Arendelle's laws and finalized by Elsa. The documents would be left with a lawyer that she trusted (especially after Anna had used magic to ensure his honesty) and would be opened if any of these scenarios came to pass.

And despite (or perhaps because of) all that had been accomplished, Elsa was left with frayed nerves and a pounding headache. The Snow Queen only looked up at the sound of Anna approaching with a glass of mead and a sheepish smile. Kristoff, Rapunzel, and Eugene sat further back, all eyes on Elsa.

Elsa took the glass and, in a move that was quite unlike her, downed the contents in one go. She coughed at the burn of the sweet liquor as she passed the glass back to Anna with a grin of thanks. A knock on the door drew everyone's attention. They were, after all, missing only one.

Alphonse entered the small sitting room where the Residuum had gathered. He crossed the room without a word and sat next to Elsa, taking her hand without a thought. Anna smiled at the sight; she was happy that Elsa was happy. The silence stretched on, all unwilling to break it.

"So everything's set up?" Eugene finally asked. When he had returned, Alphonse had set himself the task of cataloging every single troop they had, mundane and magic, and determining how they would be deployed in the fight to come. The actual organization in the following day he would leave to the combined efforts of the Avvisade, Viola and Fell.

"It is," Alphonse answered gravely. Silence settled back on the group. But unlike the peaceful silence from mere moments before, this was tense and nerve-wracking. It was finally settling on each of them that all or none of them might survive the next day. Once again, the silence stretched on.

"We all know what tomorrow will bring," Elsa said, her gaze moving over each of them. "And we all know that what we know is a lie. Battle is unpredictable, and if we lose … if we lose, the world will fall with us." The sorrow in Elsa's gaze hardened into determination. "And so the goal is simple. We -will -not - lose." Everyone stared at her, hope brewing inside each of them.

"All of us have been through hard times. And that was after our previous lives. Tomorrow will be terrifying and bleak … but no more than the worst we have already experienced. We will fight this evil with every breath in our bodies and we will protect each other as we protect the world." Elsa paused, faint anger lacing her voice.

"Hans and Loki and their followers think they can take what they believe is theirs. They know that what they want will destroy the world, and they have chosen their path anyway." Her grip on Alphonse's hand tightened, then she let go as she stood up. "But they will not go unchallenged. Even if the worst comes and we cannot secure victory, we will drag them down into the mire with us!" The room remained still for a solid minute.

"Think you can do that again tomorrow?" Anna asked. Rapunzel tried to stifle her giggles, even as Eugene laughed quietly.

"She has a point," Alphonse pointed out. "The troops will need a speech to reassure them before the battle." he looked up at Elsa with admiration. "And something along those lines will do the trick." Elsa blushed at the praise and smiled back at him.

"Well," Eugene said as he stood up, "I don't know about all of you, but I'm hitting the hay. I mean, if I'm gonna die tomorrow, I at least want to be well rested." Everyone chuckled at Eugene's dark humor before following to their respective rooms.

* * *

As Alphonse finished preparing for bed, he turned at the sound of a knock at his door. Who could that be at this time of night? Alphonse opened the door to find Elsa waiting, dressed only in a powder blue silk nightgown. Alphonse blushed lightly and fidgeted.

"Elsa?" he asked, internally berating himself for asking the obvious. "I something wrong?" Elsa smiled faintly, her cheeks becoming rosy as she shook her head.

"May I come in?" she asked in a whisper. Alphonse nodded lightly before stepping aside. Elsa strode in with all of the grace he had come to expect from her and gently clasped her hands to her chest.

"Elsa?" Alphonse asked again.

"My I stay here tonight?" she asked calmly. Alphonse turned red from his collorone to the roots of his hair, blue and gold eyes wide with surprise. Granted, a part of him had considered this, but he had never actually expected it! Elsa whirled around, her cheeks matching his own.

"Not like that!" she assured. "I just-" she cut herself off and wrapped her arms around herself. "I just … don't want to be alone tonight." Alphonse glanced at the door as he considered her request. It wasn't appropriate by any means, an unmarried woman sleeping in the same bed as a wandering mage. But, if he were honest with himself, he couldn't bring himself to care about propriety right now.

"This may be the last chance we get," he conceded. Elsa smiled faintly, her cheeks still rosy. Alphonse gestured for her to get settled. Elsa quickly covered herself with the sheets, wriggling into the mattress to get the most comfortable. Alphonse joined her, his movements jerky and awkward. He settled in and turned over to face Elsa. Both of them simply stared at each other, unsure of what to do.

On impulse, Alphonse placed a chaste kiss to her forehead, one that Elsa returned. Both smiled at each other before Elsa turned over, her back to Alphonse. The mage wrapped his arms around her petite frame, his hands clasped loosely at her waist. Elsa in turn placed her hands over his forearms. Alphonse placed his chin on her shoulder and snapped his fingers, extinguishing the candles in the room.

Both the Snow Queen and the Mage fell asleep with smiles. No matter what the next day would bring, they would remember one thing.

They would remember that they loved each other.

 **Just to head off the people with their minds in the gutter: Nothing happened between Elsa and Alphonse! Both needed comfort on an understandably stressful night. plus, I think we can all agree it's too soon for "that".**

 **The next chapter will begin the Final Battle, the Second Ragnarok! Guys, it has been awesome writing this, even as it draws to a close! Thank you all for your support! The final Battle will not disappoint guys! I won't let it!**

 ** _*Please leave a review!_ If you have ideas for certain characters clashing in the Last Battle, leave me suggestions. I'm not promising it will happen, but I will consider all of them! If you have creatures of Nordic/Scandinavian lore you would like to see in the melee, leave their name and description. I will search for them online and check if their Norse. **

**As always, thanks for reading! Prepare yourselves for the awesomeness to come!**


	29. Destiny Unfolds!

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Destiny Unfolds!

As the sun freed itself from the horizon, Elsa watched from her snow-horse as Alphonse worked. A quick glance revealed the entirety of their forces at her back, while her sister, brother-in-law, cousin, and cousin-in-law were at her sides. With that quick glance, Elsa couldn't help but feel that the term "army" was pushing it for their force of just-over one hundred. Anna flashed her a quick grin before she returned her focus to Alphonse and the small team of men he was employing.

The mage was helping a group of four men level a large log into a hole in the ground just outside Arendelle. This field had been chosen to transport their small army. Finally, the men finished placing the log and Alphonse thanked them for their work, giving each a gold armband for their trouble.

After the men had left, Alphonse took his place about halfway between the wooden pillar and the army. He took a wide stance, his body language harsh with tension even from the back. Anna gasped, which Elsa took to mean he was using magic. Her assumption was proven correct when he forced his arms apart, fingers splayed, and the log exploded into green flames that rose upward and spread a twenty yards in every direction. The greenish flames seemed to eat away at the very air itself, leaving a hole in nothing that led to a rock-strewn grassy wasteland.

"Men advance!" Elsa commanded to her guardsmen. They shouted in affirmation and advanced forward through the hole in the air, steps hardly wavering at the feat before them. "Forest advance!" Elsa commanded, signalling a large group of huldra and a half-dozen of their male counterparts to advance in turn. Next came a small group of Fossegrimen. Then the fifty-two Avvisade, leaving the Residuum to come last. As they themselves crossed through the portal, Alphonse removed a thin branch from his cloak, one that was burning like a candle, half of its length charred. He snuffed out the green flame and the hole in nothing collapsed into itself, only traces of reddish smoke indicating it had ever been there.

"At ease!" Elsa commanded. The battle, according to the Rites that Alphonse and Hans had set (ones so ancient and powerful that they couldn't be broken if they wanted to try), would take place at noon, when the sun reached the highest point in the sky. The sky, incidentally, was grey and overcast. When Anna asked about this, Alphonse assured them that he wouldn't miss it.

As the factions of the troops settled and became comfortable, Elsa dismissed her horse, allowing it to dissolve into snowflakes and flew away with the wind, and settled herself onto a boulder to examine her troops in greater detail.

Her own guardsmen, a full two-dozen, were building a campfire. She watched with narrowed eyes as Alphonse approached them and began to speak with them, too far away for her to hear. While it was Anna who had given open invitation for any guardsmen to join this battle, it was Alphonse who had offered to give them the strength to make a difference. He had pointedly avoided explaining the "how" to her, only saying that his methods would seem odd but be effective.

Next she watched the group of three-dozen huldra, and the half-dozen male huldra known as huldrekarl. Each of the huldra were lovely, almost glowing with radiance. Of course, that was also probably their glamours. Many held spears made of ash wood, and the rest were focusing as iron-hard tree bark grew over their skin, coating their arms and extending their fingers into claws. The huldrekarl were the opposite of their females; hulking, eight-foot brutes with grey skin and muscles like oak trees. But looking at them, one could sense a quiet wisdom within them, like the forest itself. They carried clubs of tree trunks and sat watching the huldra with calm contentedness.

The group of five Fossegrimen sat together, tuning their violins and lutes. Kristoff had explained to her that the Fossegrimen would only actively fight if absolutely necessary. Instead, they would play their mystic tunes before the battle started to wash away fear and panic, and to harden the troops' resolve. During the battle, they would play to bring for courage and determination as they fought, and to bring panic and disarray to the opposing forces. Elsa wasn't entirely sure if she could believe that, but anything to give them an edge was more than welcome.

Finally came the Avvisade. They knelt in perfect lines in four rows of thirteen, sharpening their swords and daggers with intense precision, each movement practiced and perfected. Each also carried a staff of rune-carved elm wood for channeling magic during battle. Elsa could almost feel the focused rage carefully simmering within each of them, the heat from their hatred seeming to roll of of them like a furnace. She was suddenly grateful that those powerful emotions would be channeled at the enemy, and away from her family.

Elsa was drawn from her musings as Anna and Rapunzel approached and sat next to her. "Big day, huh?" Anna asked. Elsa tried and failed to stifle her laughter at her sister's forced nonchalance. Leave it to the redhead to make light of an upcoming, quite literally life-or-death situation.

"Are you okay?" Rapunzel asked. Elsa sighed in both appreciation and frustration.

"Shouldn't I be asking you both that?" she asked dryly. "After all, I'm the highest-ranking member here. It's my job to make sure this all runs smoothly." Both women giggled and placed their hands on Elsa's.

"Maybe, but we're family," Anna countered.

"And it's our job to make sure you're alright," Rapunzel finished. Elsa smiled in gratitude and breathed deeply to settle her nerves.

"I'm as good as I'll ever be," she admitted. She turned her attention back to Alphonse, who was applying some kind of dark herbal paste to her shirtless guardsmen, drawing elaborate symbols and patterns across their faces, chests, abdomens, and arms. The huldra, those who were not sitting with their huldrekarl mates, were giggling and whispering to each other as they watched.

After some time, Alphonse finished with the last guardsman and casually tossed aside the shell he had kept his paste in. He cracked his neck and knuckles before tucking his elbows close to his body, arms spread to the sides and fingers splayed. Elsa flinched as Anna clapped her hands to Elsa and Rapunzel's shoulders. "You'll want to see this," she explained.

Elsa sucked in a breath as she felt her senses sharpen, like a filter had been removed from the world. Alphonse now blazed with red-and-blue energy webbed with strands of silver, the energy hovering over his skin. The energy seemed to be stretching above him in woven strands, a strand hovering before each of her unsuspecting men. When each of the men had a thread situated in front of him, Alphonse snapped his fingers and, like striking serpents, the strands shot forward to ignite the markings that covered them. The markings and patterns burned orange like hot metal, drawing pained gasps and groans from each of them. The smoke from the markings collected above them and formed the silhouette of howling wolves or roaring bears.

Elsa grunted as Anna removed her hand, her senses returning to normal. Her men were replacing their shirts and armor, the markings now seared into their skin. "Wow," Rapunzel commented. "What do you think he did to them?"

"I don't know," Anna replied with a grin, "but I bet it's gonna be awesome!"

* * *

Hans watched from a large jut in the rock as his Legions prepared for battle. He had brought his troops here at the crack of dawn for them to begin preparing. He had sensed his opposition arrive less than an hour later.

Hans's gaze flicked to a collection of ogres smashing boulders apart with their clubs, each strike turning stone to rubble. They were laughing and punching each other as they did so, their simple minds absorbed by the wanton destruction. An occasional fight would break out and be resolved quickly before they resumed smashing.

At his left stood the leader of his coven of dark-vala, Runa. He counted it as a monumental victory to be given her name - vala of any kind were often stingy with their names, claiming it gave the user power over them. At his right stood the second-in-command of Hati's pack, Selje. Hati was still resting from the rituals subjected by the coven. She would be woken in time for the battle, but needed her rest.

Hans looked up at the swirling grey clouds, his instincts supplying the time of day. Still two hours from the zenith. Hans growled with anticipation as he watched another group of ogres slamming a massive wedge into the ground. When that wedge cracked open the earth to the saltwater caverns below, he would be happy to see his surprise prepared.

* * *

As the forces of Arendelle took a light lunch, a meal meant to keep up their strength for the battle without interfering with their performance, Kristoff's gaze wandered over the groups just as Elsa's had earlier. He growled at the sight of several huldra actively flirting with guardsmen, his opinions on their kind far from changed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Eugene asked with a grin. Kristoff chuckled at the trite expression before settling back into a faint scowl. He fought off the urge to speak his mind for a brief moment before giving in. With one last look across the camp, he voiced his concerns.

"Do you think it'll be enough?" he asked. Eugene's grin faded to a look of solemnity, knowing that Kristoff needed advice now, rather than humor.

"I think," he said after a few moments of thought, "that we're beyond that question." Kristoff glanced at the ex-thief with a question in his eyes. "We've done all we can to recruit, Kristoff. It doesn't matter about the numbers anymore. Sure, one more guy to take down a few more of Han's boys would be great, but …" He sighed in resignation, "this is what we've got now." He looked Kristoff in the eye with every ounce of determination he could muster. "And come Hel or high water, it is going to be enough." Kristoff scoffed at that, looking away.

"It has to be," he agreed. Both men took the cups holding their water rations and clicked a toast, hoping beyond hope for the best.

* * *

In the Valley of the Living Rock, Grand Pabbie watched the armies prepare for battle in a mountain pond, magic providing the images. The troll-shaman's lips were tight with concern. Concern for his foster-grandson, for his granddaughter-in-law, for Queen Elsa. For the royals of Corona, who had bonded with his tribe thanks to Kristoff and Anna. And for the mage who had worked so hard to bring them to this final clash.

And as wise as he was, Pabbie couldn't say for sure how this battle would turn out. It was like the Fate of the World balanced on a set of scales. Anything could turn the tide, here.

Pabbie waved his hand to dispel the images into a series of ripples, kneeling down meditate. As he began to clear his mind, his concentration was broken by heavy footsteps approaching. Heavy with frustration and indignation.

"Bulda," Pabbie greeted his daughter. "What is it?"

"I think you know, Da," she answered tightly. One could feel the very tension in her voice, her worry for her dear adopted son and daughter. Pabbie felt her pain as his own, the fear that Kristoff and Anna would fail. That they would not return. And that the world would burn because of it.

"We have discussed this," he reminded her.

"No," Bulda interrupted, "you have discussed it. You have ordered us, ordered me, to stand by and let others decide the fate of this world." In any other instance, Bulda would accept her father's decisions for the tribe without question. But this was no other time. The world was ready to be reborn. And her baby was in danger.

"What would you have us do, Bulda?" Pabbie asked patiently. "We are not warriors. We are stones who weather the storms of life. We watch and listen and do what little we can to affect the world. Kristoff has made his decision, just as I have made mine. And we will respect his choice."

"We are a people as old as the Earth itself," Budla argued. "We couldn't do anything last time," Fate had determined the outcome of Ragnarok long before the battle, "but we can now. The Threads are uncertain, and prone to change. It isn't scripted like last time. We can make a difference now!" Buda was crying now, her fear for her child like a forest fire. But she knew her father and could see from his posture that he was uncertain, but nothing she could say would sway him.

It was up to Fate to decide now.

Pabbie sighed heavily as he listened to his daughter roll away, the weight of the world seeming to settle on his old bones. He understood what Bulda was saying, he really did. And she was right, the tribe could make a difference here. But he meant it when he said they were not warriors. They were not like the reborn Aesir and Vanir, like the Lost Wolves or even the tree-sprites and musicians. They were stones, strong and yet unmoving.

As these conflicting feelings warred in Pabbie's heard, the silence was broken by a faint buzzing. Pabbie looked up to see a lone ladybug flying. Pabbie lifted a finger to allow it to perch, staring at the vibrantly-red insect. The ladybug flew away on the wind, a spot of color against the drab landscape.

And in that moment, Pabbie's brows furrowed with determination. He wasn't sure if this was the right one, but he knew in his gut and in his heart that it was right. The shaman turned to return to the tribe and deliver his final orders. But first, he had some records in the cave to update.

* * *

The group of Residuum, as well as the leaders of each group of their troops, stood in a rough circle about an hour before noon. They watched as Alphonse began a rough outline of the tactics they would perform, offering openings for different strategies to better utilize their forces or surprise the Legions. Only Anna and Alphonse could see what appeared to be a net of fire that surrounded the group, preventing others from hearing.

"The guardsmen will charge first," Alphonse explained, glowing symbols to represent the troops forming in the dirt for all to see. "Their … new attributes will make them good to break apart their defenses. Not to mention once the fighting really starts, they'll be as dangerous to us as to them." Elsa shot a critical glance at the mage to which he just shrugged.

"After the guardsmen will come the huldra and huldrkarl. They can swim through the ground and draw more strength from the trees in the valley, which will be destroyed quickly." He looked to Viola, making sure she was listening. "You ladies will have to target any specialized troops that they might have. Your glamour will be very effective against many of the … less intelligent of Hans's forces. They will be enthralled and left open to your own attacks." He barked a laugh. "Heck, if you can 'convince' some of them to turn on their own, I would not be opposed to that." Viola giggled at the thought and nodded her assent to the plan.

"Next will come the Avvisade," he continued. "As the guardsmen begin their charge, they will weave a series of warding spells to prevent Hans's coven from decimating our forces before they can even hit. After the guardsmen hit the enemy and the huldra begin their work, the Avvisade with charge on two fronts. One will use blades, the other magic to support." He looked to Gjeter with force in his eyes. "Target whoever is doing the worst, Gjeter. Not just the she-wolves. You and your men are our heaviest hitters, we need you to fight for the good of all." Gjeter remained silent, his gaze disturbingly cold, before nodding.

"Good. Now, for the Fossegrimen, we need a small group of huldra to volunteer to guide them under the battlefield. Find large, defensible positions scattered throughout the valley, such as large boulders, and set up to play your music. The volunteers will guard the Fossegrimen to keep them playing." Viola nodded, her gaze flicking to Fell, who also assented the plan.

"So what about us?" Anna asked. Alphonse smiled in devious glee, the look inspiring a little bit of fear from the gathered commanders.

"We won't be charging. Hans expects us to do so, to lead our troops and strike like the tip of the blade. He expects us to unleash all of our power in the first attack and be easy pickings for his troops in the back of his army." Alphonse removed something from his cloak, a half-charred stick that he spun between his fingers.

"Unfortunately for him, he's only half right."

* * *

As the sun began its final approach to the zenith, hidden behind the clouds but felt by all in the valley, Eugene put the finishing touches on his old Flynn Ryder outfit. With his invulnerability, armor was pointless and would only slow him down. He needed to be fast and nimble to do any real damage in this fight. And besides, what better way for the great Flynn Ryder to go down than in a blaze of glory?

Eugene glanced at Rapunzel, who was also finishing off her armor. Well, armor was a generous term for a purple dress much like her usual attire, reinforced only by a leather corset set with steel discs. Rapunzel also prized agility in a fight, and this would help. Plus, her new regeneration would help, too. Rapunzel caught his eye and smiled in reassurance. Sure, neither of them had been through something this big before, but the princess had faith that they would be okay. It was just the kind of person she was.

Eugene glanced to Anna, who was dressed in a green armored dress much like Rapunzel's, along with leather-and-steel bracers and leather gloves, and heavy steel-toed boots. Her hair was pulled back in a single braid composed of weaving her usual pigtails together. Heidur sat in its sheath on her back, seeming to tremble in anticipation for the coming battle. Anna herself was no different, constantly moving to disperse her pent-up energy and a fierce look in her eyes.

Kristoff was dressed in a leather-and-iron jerkin that left his arms bare, along with similar pants, armguards, and Beskytter slung over his shoulder. His hair was held back with a woven leather band, much like he had described Thor. In perfect contrast to Anna, Kristoff stood perfectly still. But the look in his eyes was exactly the same.

Next came Alphonse, who by far had had the most drastic change of clothes. Unlike the leather embossed with steel that pervaded the others, Alphonse had steel accented by leather. Steel black as pitch. A steel breastplate, armguards, and legguards, along with a face guard that let his hair flow. In place of his cloak was a cape of navy material slung about his shoulders, a pair of entwined ravens emblazoned on the back. But it was the light of unrelenting fury and determination, held back only by sheer willpower, that made him happy he was on this guy's side.

Finally, he looked to their de facto leader, Elsa. Clad in her ice armor, every detail as pristine and intimidating as Anna had described, she gazed over the soon-to-be battlefield with the cold fury of a mountain blizzard. A bow of crystal-blue ice hung over her shoulder, swords of ice in sheaths on her back. Ice wolves lay at her feet, joining their mistress in watching the valley.

Overall, Eugene could do nothing but grin. Hans may have quantity, but Eugene had read the stories and listened to the descriptions. His jerks were either brainless muscle or weaklings in huge numbers. These people, born of old gods, had quality. They had power and experience buried in the recesses of their minds, ready to be unleashed to protect the world.

Finally, Elsa called for all of them to gather. The guardsmen, barechested and dressed in leather, their hands noticeably empty, faced the valley. The huldra and huldrkarl were lined up next, their naked forms covered by wood and bark up to their chins. The Fossegrimen stood next to their chosen huldra partners, hands clasped and ready to move even as the musicians prepared to play before the charge. Eugene grinned at Viola resting her head on Fell's shoulder. When had that happened? And in the back, behind the Residuum, the Avvisade chanted their guttural spells and preparations for slaughter.

"I will not sugarcoat it," Elsa called, "it's too late for that. Everyone here is all but certain to die." Wow, really inspiring Elsa, Eugene thought drily. "But even if we fall, we will not let them rise. Everyone here knows the dangers, they know the consequences of failure. But if we are destined to fail, it doesn't mean they will succeed. And they WILL NOT succeed!" She turned to them, fire in her eyes. "We will make sure of it!"

All in attendance shouted their cheers, which cut off as they all felt something snap. The sun had reached its highpoint. Noon had come, the restrictions were gone. It was time!

"Guardsmen, consecrated to the fury of Odin," Alphonse called. A sinister grin spread across his lips. "Go and unleash hell!" The guardsmen all snarled and growled, their markings sizzling with latent magic. Their eyes turned to a burning orange like a raging fire. And white-hot fury filled their hearts, ready to be released. The guardsmen, blessed with the Wrath of Odin, charged with a fearsome roar. They were no longer mere men. They were berserkers! And death would follow in their wake.

As they charged, the Fossegrimen and their partners drew close and fell through the soil like water to take their posts. These were followed by the main force of huldra and their mates, who dove into the ground to charge the opposing forces. Finally, the Avvisade drew their staves and swords and howled like the wolves that had forsaken them. And they, too, charged for the bloodbath that was to come.

Alphonse watched the opposing army closely as the Residuum circled around him, eyes searching for the opportune placing. The tightest collection of Hans's strongest troops. His eyes widened as he found it, drawing a charred ash branch from his cape. He looked to his fellows, gaze lingering on Elsa.

"And so it begins," he grinned, the branch glowing with green fire in his hands.

 **I know i implied last time that this was the first of the Final Battle, but I had some last minute details to cover. Al's "surprise troops", Pabbie's dilemma, the descriptions of their armor. Etcetera. But next time IS the Final Battle. Probably be way longer tha normal, or I may split it into two. (Probably not). What do you guys think? Are you PUMPED?!**

 ***The scene with Pabbie and the ladybug was inspired by the finale of Samurai Jack. I just couldn't resist. (Plus, ladybugs were said to be sacred to Freya.)*** **Alphonse's face-guard, for those who need visual reference, is like the Second Hokage of Naruto. Look him up for reference. I think it looks awesome for him.**


	30. To Shake The World!

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: To Shake The World!**

As the sun settled into its highest point, one of the Dusk Coven, allies of Loki, grinned and released her astral form to observe the coming battle. The dark-vala Tara, the lowest in rank, had been chosen to observe, her mind linked to their leader to report back to Loki. Tara grinned, her body far behind her mimicking the action, as she prepared to watch their enemies be crushed. As Hans ordered his first wave to charge, Tara watched closely.

A large group of men were approaching from the enemy side, apparently eager to die. Tara's grin faltered at the Sight of them. Fiery orange magic surrounded them, as if they themselves were set ablaze. The ethereal smoke that rose off of them formed the shapes of wolves and bears, the men themselves roaring like wild animals. She focused her Sight to see their eyes and shrieked in terror. They burned orange like the magic, but more than that … it was the all-consuming fury. These men had become animals, ready to destroy without prejudice.

As the wild-men clashed against the first wave of corrupted huldrkarl, Tara was in for a greater surprise. One man struck a behemoth and sent it flying, scratches from the man's elongated nails bleeding like a waterfall. And there were two-dozen of these monsters rampaging across the field, turning the Legion's first wave into a mass of broken bodies and severed limbs!

The word _Berserker_ echoed through her mind, supplied by her mistress. Men blessed with the animalistic fury of the All-Father, whose very name meant "The Furious One". The most feared warriors of the Time Before, fearless in battle with the strength of twenty men. They shrugged off mortal wounds like thrown pebbles and would not stop fighting until they were killed. These berserkers were not as bad as the legends - they were worse!

Tara hissed as she felt Loki's displeasure, his frustration. She was certain that a part of him had expected to destroy the resistance in one fell swoop. Clearly, with these monsters to lead the charge, that would not happen.

Tara quickly flew back to her body, awaking with gasp. She stood to join her sisters as they prepared to unleash their magic upon the battlefield. If steel would not destroy these things, then magic would. Loki sent forth his second wave, comprised ogres and more huldrkarl.

As the coven prepared to launch their attack, the group paused in surprise. A wave of violet light had spread across the field, forming an undulating protective ward. The coven shook off their surprise and Tara herself scoffed at the clearly-feeble ward of the reborn Freya. What could one untrained woman, no matter who she had been in a previous life, do against all of them?

The coven released threads of magic into the sky above that halted and collected into meteors of death to plunge toward the battlefield. Tara laughed as she prepared to watch them detonate upon impact. And detonate they did … upon the violet protection! No, it wasn't possible! Did they have more mages in their ranks?!

* * *

Viola screeched as she slashed an ogre's head clean off its shoulders, her wood talons dripping with yellow blood. She spun into a duck underneath another's swing and sprung into the air to claw out its eyes. And through all of this, the melodies of Fell's violin washed over her like a soothing waterfall, washing away her fatigue while they plunged the enemy into a whirlpool of confusion and strain.

As another charged at her, she nimbly sidestepped its club and leapt forward to deliver a searing, literally _searing_ , kiss to its cheek, forcing the creature under her thrall. Under her compulsion, it turned on its fellows and began to draw their attention, allowing her to plunge into the earth and return to her charge.

Viola panted as she caught her breath, spitting to rid herself of the taste of ogre flesh, her gaze turned from the chaos of her forced champion to her charge. On the surface, Fell seemed utterly peaceful with his eyes closed as if playing for a silent forest rather than a raging battlefield. But Viola could see the sweat beading on his throat and forehead, see the tenseness of the muscles in his neck and shoulders. And she could sense the energy he poured into his instrument, infusing the music with his magic. It had to be exhausting.

Viola sighed and stood up to face the next group of idiots who dared approach the boulder that was Fell's impromptu stage. She focused on the wood covering her body up to her chin like armor, yet left little to the imagination, strengthening it to the hardness of steel.

Time to get to work.

* * *

Hans grit his teeth in silent fury as he watched the battle. He refused to join until the Residuum revealed themselves. And to his unthinkable frustration, they hadn't! His every instinct had screamed at him that they would lead their army into battle, try to preserve as many of their own as possible. He would meet them and destroy them as his forces overrun theirs.

But they had sent those cursed berserkers in first, an admittedly clever move to soften his first wave. Or more accurately, decimate it and force him to deploy his second to keep up the pressure. And they had responded with another unorthodox force.

Sending those whores of tree spirits to attack had made him laugh at first, until they had shown their true ferocity. The female creatures swam through the earth like water, like tree roots, and burst from the ground to claw down his troops before falling back into the soil to find a new target. And the panic left in the berserkers' wake had left plenty of targets. Some of them had even learned to place the stupidest ogres under some kind of thrall, to make them attack his own troops in faux-devotion.

Then there were the musicians. If Hans had known how effective they could be, he would have used more than one to draw out Odin so long ago. The water-spirits' melodies sowed confusion among his troops and washed away the fatigue and fear of their own. Hans, growing up in the court of the Southern Isles, had always had some idea of the power of music, but this took it to a completely different standard.

And if that weren't enough, there were these dark-horse sorcerers. The men were like an army by themselves, their prowess unmatched with blades and magic alike. Even when the berserkers had finally fallen, these mages had moved in to spare their momentum, to widen the cracks in Hans's army.

And still the Residuum refused to show themselves! He would have expected it from Odin, perhaps from the thieving son of Balder. But from Anna, who wore her heart on her sleeve? From Rapunzel, who seemed to drip with sweetness? Or even from Elsa, who spent more time fearing for the sake of her people than for herself? This was unthinkable!

Hans grit his teeth as he came to a decision. "All charge!" he shouted, Shifting into a falcon to better see the battlefield when they arrived. A small part of the redhead wavered at the choice to send his entire Legion in one fell swoop, but it was quickly silenced by anger. He wanted these fools dead, and when their forces were decimated, he would find them and destroy them!

Hans floated on the updrafts as he searched the battlefield, inwardly sneering as his forces began to surround the mages. So focused was he, that a wave of magic nearly knocked him from the sky when frost spread across the backend of his armies. Hans flew low and cursed when he saw an army of ice-forms, of soldiers with shields and spears in a phalanx formation, of giant golems like the one at her ice palace, of wolves and bears, and hawks to tear through his Legion.

And in the middle of this pincer, in a burst of green fire, emerged the Residuum. Hans couldn't help but grin, even in the midst of this disaster, unleashing a mental summons for his trump card. Cut off the head and the body will die. Time to cut off some heads!

* * *

It was chaos in the middle of Hans's army as the Residuum appeared and began fighting. Caught by surprise, the Legion had no time to react as scores of their numbers were killed, if not destroyed, in a matter of seconds.

As Kristoff swung Beskytter to smite another ogre, he felt a wave of … something … wash over him. Something familiar, and yet not. It was like dread, dread of something long since coming. Something that had already happened. The ground began to tremble, then shake, then heave like the sea under a storm. And from an explosion of earth and soil in the distance emerged the final Great Serpent.

And setting his eyes upon this serpentine monstrosity, he felt all of the fear and anger and desperation in his heart converge, sharpened by memories not his own into a blade of destructive force. He gripped his hammer and charged it with lightning before slamming it to the ground with a shout, a bolt of pure energy shooting along the ground to strike at its target.

As the Serpent writhed in surprise, Kristoff charged with a speed he had never known, jumped with strength he had never expected, and summoned more lightning to strike at the Serpent's head just as his hammer did.

As Kristoff rolled across the ground after his attack, he wrapped a scarf around his nose and mouth to deal with the cloud of poison that hung around the Serpent like a deadly musk. Memories from Before assailed his consciousness, memories of Thor fighting this monster's sire. Memories of striking the final blow and taking nine prophesied steps before dropping dead. Kristoff gripped his hammer tighter at the shaky visions, as the Serpent turned to him with unthinkable hatred burning in its gaze.

There was no way _in hell_ he was letting this thing hurt Anna or the rest of his family. With that thought, he pushed the ground up from under him, sending him flying toward the beast.

* * *

With inhuman strength, Rapunzel swung her shield like a blade and cut off a draugr's head. Without thinking, she settled into a stance to block a club from an ogre, the runes around the edge of the weapon flaring gold before sending the force of the attack back where it had come to blow the ogre away. The princess quickly glanced at the clearing she had made, one that was shrinking as Han's forces prepared to try and destroy her. _Try_ being the operative word.

Rapunzel braced herself for the onslaught … and a terrifying sound brought the ogres and draugr to a halt. A fearsome, warbling howl that echoed across the battlefield. One that Rapunzel had never heard in person, but recognized immediately. One that she had been waiting on.

After all, she had a promise to keep.

A series of shuddering crashes heralded the approach of a fearsome, red-furred wolf, its eyes blazing crimson. The beast itself was larger than the dragon she had fought, parts of its skin torn open to reveal muscle and bone as if it had been grown by brute force. Black fluid dripped from its over-long teeth, the ground sizzling and blackening beneath its huge feet. Rapunzel could feel the heat radiating off of her like a furnace. Like some mockery of the sun.

"You know," Rapunzel said lightly, "I was expecting a lot worse." The princess grinned and readied her shield, eyes locked with her adversary. "Let's do this," she goaded and charged for the wolf.

* * *

Anna grunted as she swung at some monster she had never seen before. It was like a pale man with a prominent nose and ebony hair, its eyes tilted and avian. Blackened claws adorned the hands that held a thin ebony sword that it and its fellows wielded with chilling precision.

The creature darted forward and swung, meeting Heidur in a burst of sparks. Like lightning, she flicked his blade aside and swung around at an angle. A moment passed before his head and left shoulder and arm fell from his body in a spray of gore. Without slowing down, Anna spun and hacked off the leg of an ogre that had tried to come at her.

Anna searched for another of those avian things, valravns she idly thought, and darted for another. These things were good swordsmen and had decimated Elsa's nearly-mindless ice-soldiers. Anna struck fast at the valravn as it was engaged with three such soldiers, her blade shooting forward to strike at its heart. She yanked her blade free to let its corpse fall.

Anna quickly cast her magical senses out to feel for anymore of these valravn. Sensing none (they were apparently pretty rare), Anna turned her sights onto the circle of witches that hurled spells from the back of the enemy army. Anna charge with a cry, sword swinging like an executioner's blade as she cut apart anything in her path. As the former goddess of magic, these women were corrupting _her_ domain. And that wasn't something she could tolerate.

The woman broke out of their trance as Anna approached, their expressions ranging from fear to fury to excitement. One dark-vala conjured lightning into her fingers and shot it toward the princess. Anna jerked her hand up, bringing a boulder from the ground to take the attack. The stone exploded with the force of the energy and Anna magically took hold of the pieces. With a flick of her wrist, they were sent hurtling back at the coven at deadly speed.

The witches conjured wards, magical shields, to protect them from the debris. Upon lowering their defenses, Anna darted forward as her magic augmented her speed. Before the witches knew what was coming, one of them was dead with her head severed from her body.

The witches all escaped her range in their own way. Some turned into birds of beasts and attempted to flee. Others tried to sink into the earth and escape. And still others simply tried to will themselves away with magic. But whatever they did, it did not work. The animals struck a barrier that resembled amber - the earth refused to budge - the air itself seemed to _harden_ and prevented Vanishing.

And as it all happened, Anna glowed with the magic at her disposal. She was untrained - but she was also a fast learner. She learned by doing and by instinct. And in a duel to the death, especially among those accustomed to "structured" magic, that was the most powerful way to spellcast.

"Let's do this!" Anna shouted with a harsh grin as she prepared for the fight, her sword in one hand and green flames in the other.

* * *

Eugene laughed as he took a punch from one of the enemy huldrekarl, the force of the blow barely moving him. He dodged another strike, maneuvering so that the hulking brute struck another of its kind instead of him. In all, this had been a really exhilarating battle. Fighting, he had realized, was so much fun when you knew you couldn't actually be hurt.

Of course, according to Alphonse, there were actually still _two_ things that could hurt him. Mistletoe, of course. Thanks for that one, Pops. And the other, much more likely in this fight was magic itself. So as long as he avoided any rogue witches in this battle, there was absolutely no way that he could-

On sheer instinct, Eugene forced himself flat to the ground as a comet of solid flames sailed over the space where his torso had just been. _Why did I have to tempt fate,_ Eugene asked himself wryly. But as he stood up, he experienced something that terrified him far more than any bolt of body-mangling magic ever could.

A sinister, throaty, feminine chuckle. In a hauntingly familiar voice.

Eugene slowly turned to find a face that had haunted his nightmares for months after he had met Rapunzel. He grunted with discomfort at the feel of a sharp phantom pain in his torso, where an old wound had killed him. A wound that this woman had given him.

Mother Gothel smiled widely, insanely, as she soaked in Eugene's visible terror. "Well, well," she sneered, "what have we here?" Eldritch flames of angry red surrounded her raised hand, reflecting the mad gleam in her eyes. "A wandering thief." Her grin faded into a fearsome scowl. "And a murderer," she spat.

"Gothel," Eugene chuckled, "you're not still mad about that little incident in the tower, are you?" Eugene yelped and spun to the side to avoid another fireball. "It kind of feels like you are," he commented.

"Ramble all you like, Rider," Gothel growled. "You won't be so lucky this time!" With that, gothel stopped talking, focusing all of her considerable willpower into every destructive spell she had learned in her brief new life. She would earn her freedom over this insolent thief's dead body. And she would relish every moment of it.

* * *

As an ogre charged toward the pair of it's master's targets facing it, it never felt the ice-cold shaft of an arrow pierce its forehead or the muted thud as its body hit the ground. Elsa herself didn't even need to watch to know her target was dead and moved on to the next. In a span of six seconds, just as many distant members of Han's Legion were dead. And counting.

As Elsa' picked off distant minions, Alphonse whirled his spear with deadly grace, each sweep and strike both precise and fluid. Every few moves he would release a lash of burning magic that would sear a target to ash, his movements uninterrupted. As he spun and decapitated a draugr, he felt a chill run down his spine, heard a series of nearly-metallic noises. A line of icy spikes had interrupted a charging force of more ogres, breaking up their formation.

A few lashes of magic to make some of the remainders explode and a barrage of ice spears took care of the rest.

Alphonse spun Skordare into a relaxed position and looked to Elsa as he panted from fatigue. The queen herself was no better. On impulse, Alphonse muttered in his runic language and placed his palm on Elsa's forehead. The magic of his charm flowed out of him and closed the minor wounds the queen had sustained, filling her body with renewed energy.

Even as Elsa was rejuvenated, Alphonse couldn't help the slight stumble as he felt a wave of exhaustion settle over him. Elsa looked upon him with a conflicting mix of chastisement and gratitude, her gaze promising a stern talk after this was over. Assuming both were alive, at least.

As more minions gathered around them and prepared to charge, a piercing shriek washed across the battlefield. The Han's troops halted in their tracks and began to back away, wariness and outright fear etched in their faces. Elsa and Alphonse looked to each other before they looked up, twin gazes settling on a rapidly-growing speck in the distance.

"Here he comes," Elsa said, steel in her tone.

* * *

With a grating cry, Anna swung Heidur for a final time, the head of the last dark-vala falling from her shoulders. As an added measure, Anna jerked the sinuous vine wrapped around her hand, the other end tightening and snapping another one's neck with a sharp _crack_. Anna planted her sword in the ground and leaned on it like a cane, her breathing ragged and sweat rolling down her face. With a slight shake and an effort of will, she dissolved the remaining shreds of the wards that surrounded her like a second skin.

Anna had taken to wards, magical protections, very well under the advice of Alphonse and the guidance of Freya in her Dreams. And it was a good thing she had learned so fast and so intently. Any weaker and the dark-vala's curses and spells would have torn her apart. But each act of protection had taken its toll, however slight, on her magical endurance. "Fortitude", Freya had once called it.

Anna brushed off her tiredness and hefted her sword, ready to launch herself back into the fray, when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Dread welled and hardened in her gut, her breath stolen from her. Without thinking, Anna darted for the main body of the battle, her sword flashing and whip cracking as she cleared her path straight through.

She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. Kristoff was in trouble.

As the princess fought her way across the battlefield, she had no idea how right she was. Kristoff hurled Beskytter at the monster, knocking a few of its remaining teeth from its maw. Even as he recovered from the throw, he forced the earth to push him into the air, the Serpent's counterstrike with its massive tail still missing by mere inches. But there was nothing he could do against the coil that followed just a little higher and struck him full in across his body.

Kristoff had to have bounced a good dozen times, his unthinking command for the ground to soften beneath him the only thing that saved him from severe injury. He held out his hand, willing his hammer back to his grip even as the Serpent struck out at him. The hammer returned and he met his foe with a blistering swing to the jaw, lightning bursting from the point of impact and knocking the creature aside. A thick stream of god-killing venom sprayed from its maw and into the distance, melting a contingent of draugr in the main battle like acid.

Kristoff brushed off the aches running through his body and stiffened his stance, Beskytter held in a two-handed grip. The cold, logical part of him knew that he was unlikely to win, and therefore unlikely to survive. It had taken both Elsa and Alphonse, two of the most powerful individuals Kristoff had ever heard of, to take down one of these things. He himself was beaten nearly to a pulp by the few attacks that had be unlucky enough to connect, and his reactions were getting slow even as the monster itself learned, actually _learned_ , his patterns.

And after everything he had hurled at it, all of the lightning and boulders and mountain-shattering impacts with his hammer, the worst it had endured was burns, some abrasions, and a bunch of lost teeth. That cold part of him faintly wondered if this was how Thor had felt as he fought Jormungander, his will slowly fraying as he fought a battle that Fate, the unbreakable certainty of the Before Times, told him the best he could do was a stalemate, a mutual death.

In an instant, he knew his brief respite was over. The Serpent coiled and prepared to strike again. Kristoff prepared himself to avoid, but paused at a very, very familiar battle cry. Like a lance of shining fire, something flew from behind him and struck the Serpent in the face and exploded into green fire, black toxic blood pouring from its ruined socket as it wailed in agony.

As Kristoff stood in shock from this intervention, Anna landed in front of him. Her sword was absent, likely what had just taken the Serpent's eye, but her body language screamed aggression, a whip of braided vines lined with vicious thorns clenched in her hand.

Anna looked back to him over her shoulder, her gaze brimming with relief that she had made it. And in that relieved and determined gaze, he saw a message: _Thor may have died to this thing's sire, but he was alone. Us, we take it together!_ And in that moment, Kristoff knew he had never loved her more.

The mountain man hefted his hammer and stood next to his wife. And as exhausted as he was, as he knew Anna was, he couldn't help the grin on his face. It was time to kill this thing, once and for all!

* * *

Rapunzel shrieked as she rolled from Hati's lunge, her shield held up to cover her as she regained her feet. As soon as their duel had started, Rapunzel had learned that the beast's size hardly affected her speed. If at all. She was quick despite her size. The only real problem was her lack of maneuverability; Rapunzel could leap and dart around her like a butterfly and the she-wolf's bulk would get in the way of her own movements.

Of course, that was cold comfort against the litany of cuts, bruises, and even a number of broken bones that she had healed from, their phantom pains wracking at her and wearing her down underneath the haze of adrenaline.

Rapunzel struck her open palm forward and unleashed a burst of blinding golden light, pure fury of the sun itself, and darted past the blinded monster and into a deep trench carved into the ground to catch her breath. As she tried to calm her racing heart, Rapunzel tried to keep track of the she-wolf's frustrated snarls as it looked for her.

 _Think, Rapunzel, think!_ she chanted to herself, mind scrabbling for a solid plan of attack. She had fought so far with agility and what brute force she could muster, but that wasn't working. She had beaten scores of Hans's thugs like that, but this was different. It was huge and full of hatred. And hatred, as much as she disliked admitting it, had power. It was the opposite of love. And while she firmly believed that love was the superior force, hatred was almost as strong. And Hati was running off of it like a forest fire.

Back to her current dilemma, Rapunzel tried to analyze everything she had done up until now. She had used every move, every strategy that her powers gave her, and could do no lasting damage. Hati was too big and too full of hate. Whatever wounds she sustained were masked by that burning wrath. Frankly, if this was how her "brothers" had been, it was a wonder they had been killed at all.

Wait, how _had_ Skoll and the original Hati been killed? They had eaten the sun and moon … and disappeared from the poetry. It was as if … Rapunzel clenched her fist as an utterly insane idea took root in the strategic part of her mind and blossomed into an even more insane plan. There was no way this would work!

Then again, she didn't have any other ideas, insane or otherwise.

Rapunzel leapt from her hiding place, reaching deep within for the essence of the sun that slept within her very soul. Her skin glowed like a golden beacon, her hair like strands of spun gold and her irises like gold coins. Her wounds closed in an instant, leaving unmarked skin it their wake. All in all, she was unmistakable.

Hati turned to her with fury in her eyes and, without the slightest hesitation, leapt for her with jaws gaping. Rapunzel steeled her resolve and leapt as well to meet her. She curled into a ball, made herself as small as she could … and sailed between the beast's teeth.

Hati crashed against the ground, digging a long trench in her wake. She stood stock-still for a moment, shock taking over, before tossing her head back and howling with malicious joy.

Joy that was halted in its tracks by a burning sensation that arose in her belly. The burning escalated in a matter of seconds, driving Hati to her knees in agony. She tried to return to her human form, but her body and the magic within resisted her efforts. It was as if her body rebelled against her mind's wishes, an instinct deeper than even fear warning her of the dangers.

Hati fell to the ground on her side as the heat grew ever greater, the massive she-wolf writhing in agonized seizures. Her skin began to glow red under her fur, stream beginning to seep from between her closed eyelids. Finally, her entire body began to smoke as the all-consuming power inside her reached a head. The she-wolf cried out in torment before lying still. The glow faded away, leaving charred flesh beneath her blackened fur.

After a few moments, the she-wolf's mouth was forced open and Rapunzel pulled herself out to roll onto the scarred earth of the battlefield. The princess wretched and threw up, then tried to scrape away the juices of the beast's innards.

"Never … doing … that … again," she muttered to herself.

* * *

Even as his wife had finished her enemy, Eugene was laughing as he darted and weaved through Han's forces, balls of fire and huge stones missing him with inches to spare. Yes, he knew his life was in unbelievable danger far greater than ever in his criminal career. No, he was not insane. (Well, maybe he'd revisit that later.) But he did know, without a doubt, that this was what he had missed most about thieving.

The buzz of adrenaline. The rush of testing his skills against those of another. The bone-deep knowledge that a single mistake could mean his end. And as terrifying as that was, as it always had been, it was matched only by the thrill of it all.

Eugene grunted as he slid between the legs of an ogre, not pausing to look back as he continued his escape. But he did hear the ogre roar in terror as it was roasted alive by a hate-fueled ball of fire. And he heard the grating scream of frustration as Gothel climbed over the creatures charred corpse and kept up the pursuit.

His body occupied with running and avoiding deadly magic, Eugene considered all that had led to this once-in-a-lifetime scenario.

As Gothel had begun her assault, Eugene had expected her offensive to be as he remembered from their thankfully-brief altercation so long ago. Quick, precise, deadly. Her actual attacks, while definitely the latter, now lacked the subtlety of when she had killed him before.

Her actions now more resembled a sledgehammer than a dagger. She hurled everything she had at him regardless of his actual position, as if hoping to wear him down or catch a lucky hit. And while he wasn't sure what had caused such a change in tactics (maybe her new arsenal of spells, maybe her time in the afterlife, maybe just raw hatred of him; perhaps a bit of all three) he was not regretting it. Her assault was powerful, but sloppy, and she hit more of her own forces than she even got close to him.

And that was the other part of what made this so fun! Gothel was taking down more of Hans's forces than he could have hoped to remove on his own. And, as far as he could tell, she didn't even realize it in her all-consuming focus on killing him!

Avoiding another thrown boulder, one that cast up a fog of dust, Eugene hid behind the convenient body of one of Hans's freaky stone golems. Alphonse had said before the battle that they were the "new bodies of semi-resurrected jotun", but Eugene didn't really care about the details. What he did care about, was that it was there and would be good cover.

Eugene held his breath as Gothel rushed past his hiding place, gaze casting about for him. In her rush, she hadn't even considered that he might have hidden himself. Of course, given that she had been chasing him for the better part of an hour, he supposed he could understand that.

With footsteps as quick and silent as a fox, Eugene lunged forward with a very particular weapon.

Gothel barely had the chance to gasp as white-hot pain in her lower back shattered her concentration, her hold on her magic slipping away in the currents of anguish. Her legs failed her and she collapsed to the ground as blood leaked from her.

Gothel's eyes widened as she looked up at Eugene. Gone was the easy-going levity of Eugene Fitzherbert. Gone was the sly charm of Flynn Rider. In its place stood a deep scowl, a figure of vengeance holding a dagger stained with red.

"Payback," he growled, cold growing over Gothel's body. And not just from loss of blood, but from sheer panicking fear. She was going back, back to that place from before. Back to the place she could not remember. She felt the familiar chill settle over her limbs, cutting like a mountain blizzard. She felt the weight that seemed to press against her chest as it became more and more difficult to breathe.

And with a final rattling gasp, Gothel's eyes unfocused. The witch was, once again, dead as a stone.

Eugene had a split-second to acknowledge Gothel's death before he was struck in the back by an ogre's club and sent hurtling across the battlefield. As he stood up from the shallow trench he had carved with his landing, utterly unhurt, the thief could only smile.

Something told him that this little conflict was on its way to ending.

* * *

As the growing outline of the red falcon drew ever nearer, both the Snow Queen and her Champion braced themselves for any form of attack. As the falcon made its final approach … it dissolved into mist and scattered into the winds.

A slight tremble in the earth was the only warning as Alphonse grabbed Elsa and jerked her backward, the uppercut of Hans's sword missing her by a hair's breadth. As Hans emerged from the ground, Elsa lashed out with a flurry of ice spikes. Alphonse grunted as he took the brunt of their fall, quickly rolling to his feet and pulling Elsa up.

Hans flicked his wrist and a wall of compressed air blocked the spikes. But the force of their impact still forced him back to slide on his feet against the ground. With a flourish of his unholy blade, Hans sneered and snapped his fingers. A half dozen mounds of gravel rose from the ground to surround the pair, coalescing into duplicates of Hans.

With a flick of his own wrist, Alphonse whipped a rope of burning-red magic that lashed out in a half-circle to destroy four of the doppelgangers. Elsa snapped her fingers and froze the water within the last two, turning them to man-shaped masses of frozen mud that promptly shattered back into gravel.

"This is pointless, Hans," Elsa declared. "You can't win. Look around you," she gestured at the rapidly-dwindling chaos around them. The remaining Avvisade mowed down the last of Hans's troops with metal and magic, Elsa's ice-soldiers finishing off anything they missed. The final Great Serpent could be seen in the distance, unmoving in death. To the mystically sensitive, the very Earth around them seemed to be sighing in relief.

"You have nothing left to gain with more violence," Elsa urged. "Lay down your sword and surrender, and I will ensure a fair trial."

Hans laughed at her words, a full-fledged insane laugh that seemed to echo. "A 'fair trial'?" he asked. "For me, a fair trial is an execution!" The humor left his eyes like the snuffing of a candle, replaced by a cold glimmer of hate. "And what do I have to gain?" He bared his teeth in a snarl. "Your death!"

In a blur, Hans flew forward on a blast of wind with his sword outstretched. And like answering lightning, Alphonse drove his spear forward to intercept. And while he struck the sword off course, Hans curled inward and struck him in the exposed ribs with a blistering kick. The force of Hans's kick, augmented by the wind he had ridden, sent Alphonse hurtling back across the plain. Elsa barely had time to turn and face Hans before he lashed out at her with a jotun-esque backhand, sending her flying as well.

Elsa groaned as she rolled to her stomach and pushed herself up, her entire body aching with trauma and sheer exhaustion. She glanced over her shoulder to find Hans stalking toward her and Alphonse with deliberate slowness, the glare in his eyes that of an arrogant predator. Elsa pushed herself to her feet, eyes closed tight against a war's worth of bruises and cuts, and turned to face him.

Elsa relaxed just a bit at the sound of heavy footfalls behind her, sensing the approach of Alphonse. She glanced to him, eyes widening at the sight of blood dripping from his chin. The mage spat more crimson and winced.

"Just some internal bleeding," he groused. "I'll be alright." Elsa narrowed her eyes at his cavalier attitude to his own injuries and took his hand in her own, lacing their fingers in a lover's grasp. Alphonse gave a fleeting smile in return and they turned their full attention to Hans.

Hans himself halted in his tracks at the sight of his greatest enemies so … calm. Did they not know he would never stop? That he would continue to fight until his body had been hacked to pieces? That they would never be safe as long as his heart continued to beat?! The mad prince clenched his fist in sheer, insane outrage, his sword trembling with the force of his rage.

With a fearsome howl, Hans darted forward. With matching silence, Elsa and Alphonse charge to meet him. Elsa forged a spear of ice to mirror Skordare, its head burning with white faux-fire and Alphonse set his spearhead ablaze with violet flames. They drew ever nearer, the sheer thought of backing down long abandoned.

Ten yards - seven - five -three - one-!

 **ENOUGH!**

The ground between the adversaries burst apart, the force sending both parties hurtling backward. Elsa twisted in midair and formed a cushion of snow to break her and Alphonse's fall; even then, their landing was far from graceful.

Both stumbled to their feet as more tremors shook the battlefield, holding each other tight as waves of some horrific force emanated from the crevice that had halted their final attack. The earth seemed to roil like the waves in a sea storm, sending both crashing back to the ground, only to shakily rise again.

Finally, a crowd of small boulders rose from the ground and unfurled to reveal the trolls of the Valley of Living Rock. Pabbie strode with purposeful steps to face the risen Hans from across the chasm. Hans leapt and crossed the crevice, his sword flashing toward Pabbie with a shrill cry.

With calm to rival the stones themselves, Pabbie simply lifted a hand palm-outward. An undulating field of Skylights appeared before him, deflecting Hans's attack in a flash like lightning. Hans slid on his toes to halt a few feet away, his gaze murderous.

"Begone, troll shaman!" he demanded. "Fate has come to its head and you stayed away! You have no right to interfere!"

"In the Quaking, perhaps," Pabbie responded serenely. "But then, from what I see, the battle is over. As the Snow Queen so eloquently explained, your forces are dead or dying. The only one left standing … is you." Hans snarled, his face red as his hair.

"And I am all that is needed! I am the one who marshalled these forces! I am the one who brought all of this together! And I am the one who will burn the world, to allow a new one to grow and cultivate it in my own image! And you, shaman, cannot stop me!" He cackled at that and readied himself to strike again. But before he could, the sound of Pabbie's chuckles stopped him in his tracks.

"I cannot, it is true," the shaman agreed. "But then, I don't have to." the grandfatherly glint in Pabbie's eye turned cold, his smile terrifying. "Now that you have proclaimed your crimes, there is someone else who would have words with you." As if in agreement to his words, the earth resumed its trembling, cracks and chasms opening in the ground.

And from the ground rose a serpentine figure that made the Kjempeslange seem _tiny_. Crimson scales covered the monsterosity, broken by stripes dark as death. Sinuous legs ended in feet as large as Arendelle Castle, capped with wicked claws longer than a bridge. A head shaped like a scythe blade turned to face them, its mouth emphasised by a row of yellow fangs as large as a ship. And they felt its eyes, burning green like the most vile of poisons, settle upon them.

Elsa nearly doubled over with the sheer panic that rose in every fibre of her being, every cell in her body straining to flee even as it was paralyzed by crippling terror. For the first time in her life, she felt cold. She felt her sanity fraying from the sheer horrific sight of this entity, even as she couldn't force herself to look away.

 **DEATH HAS HAD ITS FILL …** Elsa grimaced as she felt those words, in a voice like crumbling mountains and shrill, raging blizzards, in her mind. **THE CYCLE HAS BEEN BROKEN.** Was that … the dragon?! **THE SLATE MUST BE WIPED CLEAN.**

The abomination opened its jaws, revealing a maw that could swallow all of Arendelle, to release a maelstrom of blackness. The obsidian cloud emitted a screeching wail like the torment of millions of souls and turned toward them. In a flash of intuition, Elsa knew what they were. They were the souls of the damned, incalculable evil restrained by this _thing_.

The mass spread and seemed to cover the battlefield and the sky alike, blocking out the sun like a storm front. The corpses of the fallen, of Loki's Legions, were dragged by the black spirits into the air, each malevolent spectre returning to the monster's gaping jaws with a corpse. Even the burned body of Hati and the massive dead Serpent were taken by the black tide.

After what felt like eons, but was likely only a matter of minutes, the cloud of damned spirits and corpses fully returned to the monster, which closed its mouth and swallowed with a hissing growl. The thing turned to look at them again and once again opened its mouth, a thin sliver of the mass returning and darting toward them. **AND NOW, FOR THE LIVING.**

The tormented spirits wailed as they latched onto Hans, covering him from his toes to his chin. Hans shrieked in fear, falling and freeing his arms to scrabble at the ground. The shades, however, refused to let him go and dragged him, ever-so-slowly, toward the dragon.

Finally, Hans lost his grip and flew back with a terrified wail into the depths of pure damnation.

Its task seemingly complete, the abomination settled back to the ground and sank, the earth seeming to swallow it up in the same massive tremors that seemed as if the world itself were trembling in fear. And the tremors stopped and all was utterly, painfully still.

Pabbie, even the great troll-chieftain seemingly shaken by the experience, turned to address them. "It is done," he whispered.

And with that, Elsa's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell into soothing blackness.

 **Holy mother of mercy, that was tough!**

 **Sorry about the wait guys! A sudden severed inspiration (and computer problems that took a whopping TWO WEEKS to fix) kept this for over a month! I am so sorry to those who were waiting for this update.**

 **Never fear, for there is a final chapter/epilogue! Stay tuned for that!**

 **For all who have followed this fic, I thank you for you never-ending grace and support! You have no idea how much I appreciate it! I hope beyond hope that this Final Battle held up to your expectations.**


	31. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Legends Are Realized**

A full week after the Second Ragnarok, Elsa strode through the streets of her home. Under her fine clothing, layers of bandages kept pressure to ward off phantom pains from magically-healed wounds. As she continued on her path, nodding in greeting to the people who hailed her, Elsa thought about all that had happened after the Final Battle.

When Elsa had woken after passing out from, among other things, sheer instinctive terror, she had found herself in a crystal-lit cave in the Valley of Living Rock. Sheets of moss had been wrapped around her from shoulders to toes, clearly Pabbie's work, and her body felt sore and her head filled with cotton. Rapunzel was kneeling beside her, her palms held just above the moss coverings and glowing with faintly golden light.

Upon noticing that Elsa was awake, Rapunzel had called the others to check up on her. Anna had, predictably, jumped right into quite loudly making sure Elsa was okay before being quieted by Kristoff and Eugene.

"Where's Alphonse?" Elsa had asked blearily. The group all looked to each other before parting to reveal Alphonse in a similar state to her. The differences were the trickles of blood running from the scar around his throat and the fact that he had not yet woken up.

Pabbie had approached and explained what had happened to them all after the Battle. Elsa and Alphonse had passed out from a kind of metaphysical sensory overload. Pabbie and the trolls had gathered them up and rounded up the survivors of the battle and taken them to the Valley for rest and healing.

And that had been a full three days ago.

When Elsa asked about the monstrous dragon, Pabbie had smiled gravely and asked her own opinion on the matter. After a moment of contemplation, only a single figure from the old stories came to mind.

"Nidhoggr," she whispered heavily. Pabbie nodded in confirmation. Nidhoggr, the Corpse Swallower, the only resident of the vile realm of Nastrond. The eldritch monstrosity that gnawed at the roots of the World Tree when it wasn't feasting on the souls of the truly damned; adulterers, oath-breathers, and murderers.

Pabbie had explained that, despite his horrific (and well-deserved) reputation, Nidhoggr had been, in a sense, a force of balance. It had chewed at the roots of Yggdrasil not to destroy it and in turn reality, but to keep it from overgrowing. During the first Ragnarok, the dragon had survived and been freed from its captivity, a living force of balance. It had watched the new world blossom and waited for the cycle to resume its course, for the gods to be reborn.

And in the end it had chosen, with some pleading from Pabbie and the trolls, to end the repeating cycle.

As Pabbie had finished his tale, a rattling gasp echoed through the cave. Alphonse had woken, seizures wracking his body. Elsa, in a fit of panic, had frozen her coverings solid and shattered them to reach the mage's side, uncaring of her … state of undress. It had taken the combined skill of Pabbie and raw healing power of Rapunzel to calm Alphonse down. Pabbie had assured Elsa that Alphonse would be okay, only that he was dealing with the strain of battle differently due to his far-greater spiritual injuries.

It had taken another full day for Alphonse to awaken, and yet another for him to reach a point where he was fit to travel. The six had returned to Castle Arendelle, to the overwhelming applause of Elsa and Anna's people.

Upon returning, Elsa had been given a report of the survivors of their own forces. In the end, a whole nineteen of the fifty-two avvisade had survived. The mages had given their report and gratitude and left without further preamble, the bodies of their dead carried between them for their own funeral rites. About half of the huldra and huldrekarl had survived. Only Fell of the Fossegrimen had lived and none of her guardsmen had survived.

That night, a mass funeral had been held for those who had fought and perished. Anna, impetuous as ever, had ordered the construction of a monument to the dead. She hadn't given specifics, beyond the words "big" and "awesome". The idea had, perhaps unsurprisingly, been met with fierce support.

As Elsa came back to the present, she glanced at one of the city's open courtyards, one that was housing the beginnings of another of Anna's crazy ideas. A cluster of about fifteen women young and old, from barely-of-age to elderly, were gathered together in curved lines facing the princess. Anna held her arms up, palms out, and the gathered women echoed her stance.

Anna had, after everything had settled, jumped on the idea of passing her newfound knowledge of magic to others. She had, with Elsa's approval, issued an announcement to test others for the skill of magic. The women before her were those with any appreciable talent, who were learning the arts of healing and protection.

Rapunzel stood next to Anna, watching with calm amusement as Anna's new students struggled to touch their own inner power. The princess of Corona had, after sending a message through magic to her parents, been allowed to stay in Arendelle for another few weeks. Elsa smiled at the thought, happy to have the chance to spend time with her cousin without the cloud of imminent danger.

A commotion some distance away drew Elsa's attention to a group of men outside a tavern, among them Eugene. A large brute of a man roared and struck the ex-thief with a large board, the wooden beam shattering against eugene's body even as it sent him sprawling. But the prince-consort had merely laughed and stood up, his hand outstretched as if waiting for something. The brute apparently grumbled and handed over a bag. Elsa chuckled at the apparent gambling going on.

 _Men_ , she thought fondly. _Always thinking with their fists. And all too eager to try their mettle._

Elsa continued on her way, eventually coming across Kristoff as he was unloading a batch of ice for a small restaurant. Kristoff had, unsurprisingly, jumped right back into work as soon as the royal physician had deemed him healthy enough. Kristoff caught her eye and waved, getting back to work almost before Elsa herself had finished waving.

With almost all of her family accounted for, Elsa conjured a snow-horse and mounted, lashing reins of frost to send the mount running for the mountains. It was time to find the last remaining member.

* * *

Elsa found Alphonse just where she thought she would. The door to her Ice Palace stood slightly ajar, as if he were announcing his presence. And in the balcony above the doors stood the man himself, apparently writing in his leather-bound journal. Elsa dismissed her mount, landing gracefully among the ensuing whirl of snowflakes, and made her way into the Palace and up the stairs.

As Elsa crossed her upper floor, Alphonse snapped his book shut and turned to face her, a warm smile gracing his features. To others, Elsa was a powerful and respectable queen, a fearsome threat only mitigated by her pacifism. Monarchs tried to work with her or tolerated her power because they had no other choice.

But the Alphonse, she was far more than that. She was an intelligent, compassionate, loving, self-sacrificing, quietly strong-willed woman. She was, to him, as beautiful inside as she was out. And, as any red-blooded man could tell you, such a comparison was saying quite a lot.

As they finally drew near, Elsa placed her hands behind Alphonse's neck just has he placed his own around her waist, the gestures as natural as breathing. They drew even nearer, foreheads lightly touching, just soaking in each others' presence. How long they stayed like that, neither really knew. Or cared.

Eventually, they separated, turning as one to watch the sun sink toward the horizon. Elsa leaned her head onto Alphonse's shoulder and her arm around his, even as his arm encircled her waist, their free hands entwining without thought. Elsa waited for another few moments before speaking.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" It was more of a statement than a question, spoken without malice or accusation. Simply a statement of fact. Alphonse sighed as he realized just how foolish it was to try and hide things from the Snow Queen who had stolen his heart.

"You have your duties," Elsa continued, "just as I have mine." She turned to look at him, drawing his gaze without effort. "When?" she asked.

"Tonight," he answered solemnly, looking away. Elsa couldn't help her hands closing as she fought off a flare of sorrow. Logically, she had expected as much. Just because Hans' forces had been either killed or pulled into Oblivion didn't mean there were no more forces of evil out there.

But that didn't mean she had to like it.

Elsa placed a hand against Alphonse's face, drawing his gaze back to her own. "Will you return?" she asked. She had to know.

"Yes," he answered immediately. "I will return to you." Alphonse drew her closer, drawing strength from her presence. "No force in the world could keep me from you, Elsa." Alphonse leaned down and kissed her forehead in a sweet gesture. And elsa would have none of it.

With a wicked grin, the Snow Queen grabbed his collar and pulled him back down for a searing kiss, pushing everything she felt for him, all of the admiration and respect, the comfort and compassion, the sheer intense _love_ , into a single action. When she finally broke the kiss, Elsa giggled at Alphonse's dazed look, taking a sense of pride in the fact that she had left him like that.

"Just so you remember," she jested, before placing a final peck on his cheek.

Alphonse smiled and calmly fell backwards, off of the balcony rail and out of sight. A sharp crack, like thunder, echoed from below and a streak of grey and white bolted up past her. Elas turned and looked at the peak of the North Mountain to see Alphonse, hat held high, riding a standing Askvader. And in another thunderous burst and a blur of snow, they were gone.

But Elsa was not saddened by what had happened. It was in his nature to roam, to fight against that which would harm the innocent. Just as it was hers to protect and nurture her own people. And she knew, without a doubt, that he would be back before she knew it.

After all, what was a little time in the face of true love. Absence, it was said, only made the heart grow fonder.

Elsa sighed as she watched horizon, Alphonse's journal left in her hands. She would have to return home soon. A queen's work was never done.

But, for now, she wanted to stay in her haven and enjoy a moment of peace.

 **FIN**

* * *

 **And there it is, folks! The last of it. I hope you like how it ended.**

 **Thank you everyone for your support on this thrill ride! I could not have finished without you! I hope to High Heaven that you liked this story!**

 **For those of you interested, I have an idea for a short sequel, but it won't come for a long time, if ever. I had considered planting a seed for it at the end of this, but decided against it. Why ruin a nice ending?**

 **If you liked the ending (as short as it was) leave a review! Let me know how much you liked my work! It has been a joy to write this and a part of me is devastated to see it end. But, as with all good things, it must. I'm just happy to have made someone, anyone, else happy with my work.**

 **I love all of you guys and I hope you take a peek at my other works.**

 **With respect and gratitude, Mr. Spinner!**


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